


Things That Stop You Dreaming

by dolly_dagger87



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-12
Updated: 2014-11-12
Packaged: 2018-02-25 03:25:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 49,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2606732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dolly_dagger87/pseuds/dolly_dagger87
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hitch·hike (verb): to get a ride in a passing vehicle by holding out your arm with your thumb up as you stand on the side of the road. Or how Joseph Liebgott met David Webster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. One

“Jesus Christ, Web. Do you think you brought enough books?”

“No such thing, Hoob.”

David Webster turned around to watch his best friend Donald Hoobler navigate down the stairs of Webster’s building while carrying a milk crate of books. Webster had known Hoob since he got to Boston, on a night his computer had just died. Wouldn’t turn on, nothing. It had turned into a very expensive paperweight with his term paper trapped inside it. Webster had hurried over to the student union, only to discover that the tech office was already closed. Blessedly, Hoob had been on campus to visit his then girlfriend, now wife. In her dorm room, he’d managed some sorcery that got Webster his paper back. Since then it had been impossible to shake Hoob and Carolyn. Most of the time this was a positive thing as he would dinner at their house almost once a week. The drawback was that Cara would occasionally try to set him up on blind dates. She violently disliked the idea of him being alone, but Webster had to say that he didn’t find it as repellent.

“I thought you were going to Mexico to write a book, not to read one,” Hoob said, balancing the crate on the bumper of Webster’s car.

“Lip lives in New Mexico, Hoob. I don’t plan on leaving the country,” Webster said as he tried to organize his trunk. “And reading and writing are not mutually exclusive.”

Ever since the previous summer when his friend Carwood Lipton had followed his boyfriend Ronald Speirs down to Albuquerque, New Mexico, there had been a standing invitation to come visit. “You know, once we get settled and Ron starts his new job.” The school year had started, back to teaching his classes, and Webster had found it impossible to get away. Since Lip was starting at new school too, Webster had convinced himself it was for the best. Around spring break, Lip had started hinting about a visit. He’d been ready to hedge and get out of it.   
That was before he’d started grading his students’ midterms. Sometime after that, he’d decided if he had to spend the summer in Boston, he might go crazy. He understood why Lip was so keen, he’d bought a house with his boyfriend and he wanted to show off. Wanted someone to come down that remembered their first tiny apartment. Or the second with the master bedroom view of a brick wall. Or that cute little townhouse they were living in before they moved. He wanted to show off how far they’d come. Webster was happy to accommodate him and take over his guest bedroom to write his novel. 

“I imagine it’s pretty hard to read and write at the same time,” Hoob said, grinning.

“I have to come up for air at some point,” Webster said as he heaved the crate of books into the trunk.

“You know, all of those books are online,” Hoob said. “Do you know how much space you’d save in that apartment of yours if you’d just let me get you an e-reader?

“I like books, Hoob. I like turning pages. I like the weight of a book in my hand. I even like the way they smell. So no, you may absolutely not get me an e-reader,” Webster said as he slammed his trunk closed.

“Do you know how that sounds coming from a writer with their book available for digital download?”

“You are a horrible influence, Hoob,” Webster said.

“You all set?”

“I think so,” Webster said, looking over the car. “If I forgot anything, it’s Albuquerque, not the dark side of the moon. I’m pretty sure they have a WalMart.”

“Call me when you stop for the night. Cara will worry,” Hoob said, clapping his shoulder.

“Sure,” Webster said, nodding.

“You should let me know how the novel’s going too.” Hoob was trying for casual and missed it by a mile. “You know, good or bad.”

“Yeah because you aren’t at all invested in that,” Webster said as he opened his car door and got into the seat. Hoob was practically looking in his windows to make sure he was writing at all times.

“Remember, you have to be back here by-”

“August first,” Webster said, cutting Hoob off. “I know, Hoob. You’ve told me like fifteen times.” 

“Well, just making sure because I know you and I know you are just itching to get out of this book tour,” Hoob said.

“But for some reason I let you talk me into it, so I’m going to be back on the second,” Webster smiled.

“That’s not funny.” Hoob shook his head. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

“I’ll be back on the first, Hoob. I promise." Webster nodded.

“Drive safe, because I’ll make you do the presentations from the hospital bed via a live feed if I have to.” Hoob patted the top of Webster’s car.

“I’ll try,” Webster said as he closed the door. He heard Hoob tap his car again before he headed back down the street to his car. As he pulled away from the curb, he hit his phone to dial Lip’s number, the ringing coming over the speakerphone.

“Hey boy. You headed our way?”

“Yeah, I just pulled away from the curb,” Webster said, rolling his shoulders and trying not think about how much time he was going to spend in this car over the next few days.

“Hey and almost on time,” Lip said.

“I don’t care for the judgment there. Not all of us have anal retentive boyfriends that get us to everything on time,” Webster replied as he waited out a light.

Lip laughed. “I still don’t know why you don’t just fly.”

“Luggage weight minimums.” Webster drummed his fingers on the steering wheel. 

“Christ, did you load half your library into your trunk? You know if you got-”

“If the next word out your mouth is a brand of e-reader, I’ll turn this car around and spend the summer in Boston,” Webster sighed.

“You do know your book is only available as an e-book, right?”

“The hypocrisy is not lost me and has actually been pointed out to me once already today,” Webster said.

“Hoob and I will drag you into the twenty-first century or perish in the attempt.”

“Tell you what,” Webster said as he makes a right turn. “I’ll go out and buy one the second after you get Ron to use one.”

He hears the heavy sigh on the other end of the phone. Webster was confident that he would always be able to count on Roman History professor Ronald Speirs to not cave. Last he heard, Ron hadn’t even read his book and Webster understood a man that has principals. He’d only read Ron’s because it was available in hardback.

“How far you plan to get today?”

“I don’t know.” Webster leaned forward in order to see the sky. “It looks like rain. I’m not crazy about driving on the highway with semis if it’s pouring down rain.” 

“Well, let me know when you stop for the night.”

“Will do,” Webster said as he watched a few dots of rain fall on his windshield.

*~*

“Lieb, out of curiosity, is that fabric I hear ripping?”

“Yes,” Joseph Liebgott grunted as he forced the scissors through the fabric in his hands.

“Why do I hear fabric ripping?” His best friend Charles Grant, on the other end of the phone in San Francisco, asked the logical follow up question.

“I bought half these curtains,” Joe explained as he give up on the scissors. They’d become pretty useless since their run in with the sofa. Well, half the sofa. To finish the job, Joe just tore the fabric with his hands. “So I’m only going to leave him half of these curtains.”

If he couldn’t take these things with him, he damn well sure wasn’t going to leave them functioning behind. The decision to end this relationship might not have had an emotional cost to both parties. Joe had decided to even the score by making sure it would have financial one. 

There was a sigh on the other end of the phone. “Well Jesus, Joe. I’m glad you decided to take the high road.”

“You know it,” Joe said as he picked up his lit cigarette that had been resting unattended on the windowsill to take a drag. Smoking hadn’t been allowed in the apartment, which had been a concession Joe had been willing to make for a boyfriend. Terminate that status and lose the concessions that go with it. “I got the comics mailed this morning. Had to get a second box to get them all to you. I have the tracking numbers if you want them.”

“I don’t need the tracking numbers. You send them here or to the store?”

“I sent to your house, but you’re going to have to sign for them.” Joe put out his burned cigarette on the nightstand.

“Sign for them? Christ, Joe. They’re comics, you’re not FedExing me a liver,” Grant said.

“Hey, I treat those comics better than I treat my liver,” Joe said, cradling his phone against his shoulder as he fed the tattered curtains back onto the rod.

“Especially lately,” Grant replied dryly. “So when’s your flight?”

“Is that Lieb?” A voice cut in from the background. Joe knew exactly who it was. When Joe and Grant had first started living together, they had met Floyd Talbert when they’d helped him out of bar fight. After that, he’d worked his way into being their best friend. “Is he on a plane yet?”

“Ok, I’m putting you on speaker phone so I don’t have to have two conversations at the same time,” Grant said and Joe could hear the difference in audio quality.

“Tell me you’re on a plane and calling us before takeoff,” Tab said.

“No, he’s still at his apartment, trashing the place,” Grant said and he could hear the disappointment in his voice.

“Aww, good boy,” Tab said. “You feel any better?”

“A little,” Joe said as he lit another cigarette.

“So are you taking a red eye?”

“I don’t think I’m going to fly back,” Joe said, giving voice for the first time to an idea that he’d been kicking around. “I think I’m going to hitchhike.”

“Very funny, Joe. When does your plane leave?” Grant said.

“I’m not joking. I can’t afford the airfare,” Joe said defensively.

“So let us help you, Jesus Christ,” Grant said with hysteria rising in his voice.

“I can take care of myself.” Joe wasn’t above shouting back.

“No one is saying you can’t,” Tab cut in, because every time Joe and Grant staked out their side of a fight, Tab would try to get them back to the center. “Look, hitchhiking might sound like fun, but…”

“No, Tab. It’s fuckin’ insane and you don’t get a vote anymore, Mr. He’s Fine We Don’t Have To Fly Out There.”

“Look, I’m not a fucking basketcase. I got myself into this, I can get myself out of this,” Joe snapped.

“Lieb, do you have any idea how many serial killers get their start picking off hitchhikers?” Joe listened as the anger slid out of Grant’s voice, the worry of a mother hen creeping in.

“No one’s arguing that you can’t take care of yourself,” Tab cut in more calmly. “But maybe, just for the sake of trying new things, let us buy you a ticket for Christmas or Hanukkah or something?”

“Look, I could just really use some time by myself right now.” Since he’d gotten dumped, Joe had mastered the art of just existing. He’d hadn’t been eating that much, he’d been drinking way too much, and had probably smoked a new hole in his lungs. He just handled what was happening and what it said about him. He’d followed a boy across the country and on the other side of that, looking back, there was no way that it didn’t look stupid. It looked stupid and he felt stupid because of it. The last thing he felt like he needed right now was all the sympathy and empathy waiting for him back in Grant’s apartment. 

“You call us every day,” Grant said firmly. “Every day. You miss one and I’m calling the FBI and putting out a nationwide manhunt.”

“Ok.” Joe figured he would probably end up doing that anyway.

“You going to head out today?” Tab was back now that Grant had decided how they were going to handle this. For not being a couple, they sure as hell acted like it sometimes.

“Yeah,” Joe nodded even though they couldn’t see him.

“If something happens, if you get in over your head-”

“I know.” Joe cut Grant off before he could start making promises. “I’ll be there in a couple of days and you’ll be trying to figure out how to get rid of me.”

“Just get here safe,” Grant said.

“Yeah, we’ll go to a Giants’ game or something,” Tab agreed. “You know, really paint the town.”

Joe laughed as he said his goodbyes before he tucked his phone in his back pocket. He climbed up onto the stepstool, cigarette between his lips, curtain rod in his hand. He hung it back up before blowing smoke into his hard work.

“Good luck with that morning sun light, asshole,” he remarked to himself as he climbed back down. He walked into the kitchen and removed his iPod from the dock on the counter. He slid the dock off the counter and it hit the floor with a crash. Joe gave it an appraising look. Maybe half of it had survived. He put his cigarette out on the counter. He walked over to the door, pulled on his backpack, and picked up his duffel.

Once outside, Joe locked the door behind him and dropped his keys in front of it. If someone wanted the flat screen, he’d no longer stand in their way. As he walked out of the building for the last time, he thought he felt a couple drops of rain on the skin of his forearm. He looked up at the sky as he pulled a baseball cap on his head before he turned and started heading west. Leaving Boston in his rearview where it belonged.


	2. Two

“It’s pouring, Tab,” Joe said, watching the rain fall from when he was staked out under an overhang at a rest stop off the I-90. “And the minute that happened, fucking traffic dried up.”

“You find some place dry?” Tab asked and Joe could hear the faint noise of the TV on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, I’m hiding out under the main building’s overhang. There’s a lounge here, but I’m worried if I head inside I’ll miss the one car that pulls in here this year. At least they have Wi-Fi. ”

He heard Tab’s snort of laughter. “Well that’s something. I feel really old because the last time I took a road trip, rest stops didn’t have Wi-Fi.”

“I know right? Kids today have it so easy,” Joe said. “So did Grant have to go back to work? I was going to call him to tell him I haven’t been hit by a car and I got the voice mail.”

“I think he has a date,” Tab said idly. Joe could imagine the scene on the other end of phone, Tab on the sofa with his feet stretched out coffee table.

“A date?”

“Yeah, some artist that he met last week at something,”

“You’re just a wealth of information,” Joe said, leaning back against the wall behind him to light a cigarette. He was a little surprised Grant hadn’t told him he was seeing someone. He got the sick feeling in his stomach that he had become that friend. The friend that you couldn’t be happy around because their misery swallowed up everything good around it. He almost asked Tab, but he knew Tab wouldn’t know. Tab never avoided anything so he rarely noticed when someone else was.

“Well, he wasn’t exactly overflowing with details,” Tab said. “Must really like this one. You know he gets all secretive and shit when he thinks he found a keeper.”

Joe decided not to encourage this train of thought. Tab was right, Grant didn’t tend to tell them a whole lot if he actually liked the guy. It had never really occurred to Joe to care, Grant was the dating the guy. Tab seemed to take it personally. Joe had never really been able to figure out why. 

“What are you doing home at this hour anyway?” Tab had a healthy appreciation of the female form and seemed to be attempting to bed the entire population of the bay area. Failing that, he’d settle for San Francisco. Joe was grateful he wasn’t into girls or he’d have a hard time finding one that didn’t know his roommate. As it was, it was risky going out with Tab in public. Not that he blamed the girls, but it wasn’t his fault Tab had commitment issues.

“Can’t a guy have a quiet night in?” Joe knew that tone, knew Tab must have seen a certain redhead running around town.

“How’s Arlene?”

“Fuck you,” Tab said and Joe was pretty sure he could hear the clinking sound of a glass.

Arlene had been the realtor that had shown Grant the commercial space when he first opened the store. Tab had flirted with her shamelessly and they had even gone out a few times. Arlene had broken it off because she didn’t think Tab took her seriously. Which was perceptive because he didn’t. Well, he didn’t right up until the moment she decided she wanted nothing to do with him. Now she was the ONE that got away, all caps. After that, he went out of his way to avoid her and it always took a considerable amount of wind out of his sails when he saw her. Too much self-reflection will do that to a person. Joe figured they’d probably end up with a yard full of kids. It’s just that Tab had a considerable amount of growing up to do before that happened.

Joe considered hanging up and letting Tab drink himself into a stupor. It was kind of his only source of entertainment at the moment though, until a blue Ford Focus pulled into the lot.

“Bingo. Finally a fucking car,” Joe said.

“Probably a creepy masher with a severed human head in the trunk,” Tab said. 

“Fuck,” Joe said as the only passenger got out of the car. A tall pale man with dark messy hair ran to the far side of the building. 

“Was I right?”

“No, worse. A college boy.” Joe could spot a college boy at twenty paces, twenty five if he was drunk. Give him a few minutes and he could tell east coast, west coast or ivy. Joe could own it, he had a type. He liked college boys in theory. In application, they normally looked down their noses at boys that drove a cab for a living. You had to appreciate the aesthetic or rather debauching the aesthetic. The purposely messy hair, the oxford sweaters, and mommy’s hopes and dreams. It was too much to have all of that crumpled up on the bedroom floor.

“Did you bring condoms?”

“Jesus,” Joe snorted. No matter how used to Tab he thought he was, Tab would always say something that would surprise him. “No, I did not. I’m pretty sure that’s the last thing I need right now.”

“I think that’s exactly what you need right now. Nothing takes your mind off your last mistake like making new and exciting ones in the back of a car at a rest stop.”

“I hate you,” Joe said, but he was already thinking it.

“Well, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do and do a lot of things Grant wouldn’t do,” Tab said.

Even though he’d heard Tab say that nearly every time Joe went out with a guy, it still made him smile. The best part was that Grant still felt the need to defend himself against the suggestion that he didn’t know how to have fun. 

“Yeah, ok,” Joe said absently, paying more attention to the college boy’s car as he hung up the phone. As the college boy ran his way, Joe knew he was going to be a problem, if for no other reason than he was now soaking wet. As he got closer, Joe could see what the real problem was going to be. College boy had the bluest eyes Joe had ever seen.

*~*

It hadn’t felt safe to keep driving when Webster pulled off the road into the rest stop. He’d expected a few of his fellow motorists to arrive at the same conclusion as well. Judging by the empty parking lot, he was the only one struggling with the rain. It was an eerie feeling being on the side of the road with no one else around. It was almost the set up of a bad horror movie. As he neared the main building, he noticed that he was not in fact alone. Sitting next to the doors, out of the rain that had let up a bit, was a man and an oversized duffel. Even from a distance, he didn’t look homeless. He was clean shaven and it looked like he had bathed recently even if he was a little waterlogged from the rain. He had a lit cigarette dangling from his fingers and his attention was focused on his phone in his hand. It was by no means ancient, but Webster was sure there were newer models.

All of the marks of civilization aside, there was something about this man that seemed unkempt. Perhaps it was that his jeans were slightly frayed around the cuffs. Or maybe it was that the hunter green t-shirt he was wearing looked faded. Most likely it was that the man’s frame didn’t seem to fill out any of these items. Webster blamed the need for human contact on the fact that he walked over to the stranger.

“I didn’t think anyone else was here, I didn’t see another car.” Webster said and watched as the man’s attention turned from his phone to Webster.

“Wow, nothing gets past you, slick. That’s ‘cause there isn’t one.” The man smirked before taking a drag of his cigarette.

Webster took a moment to digest that information before it dawned on him how the man got there. “You’re hitchhiking.”

“You are a quick one.” The man face had set into what Webster could best describe as a leer.

“Does this attitude get you a lot of offers for rides?”

“You’ve already decided. Kissing your ass isn’t going to help you make up your mind. You either like the idea or you don’t.”

“I’m heading west, to New Mexico.”

“That’ll do.” The man got up off the ground and dusted off his jeans with his hands. Once he was standing, Webster could see that he’d been leaning against a tattered backpack. He picked up the pack and put it on his shoulders. As Webster watched him pick up the duffel bag, it occurred to him that this might not be the best idea. He didn’t know anything about this person, but Webster reasoned that if he’d meant to mug him and steal his car, surely he’d have done it already.

“David Webster,” Webster said, holding out his hand.

“Joe Liebgott,” the man replied, but he did not return the handshake as he shouldered his duffel. On that note, the walk to the car was quiet. Webster figured he’d be spared awkward chitchat on this ride.

“Hmm, college parking,” Joe said as he got to the passenger side of Webster’s car. He was referring to the pass that Webster had hanging from his rearview mirror for the odd day he drove to campus. “Thanks for not being one of those college boys with the name of their school plastered all over the back of the car.”

“I’m not a student,” Webster said as he got into the car.

“What’s the matter?” Joe said as he got in the car. “Bitter you had to drop out?”

“I work at Boston College. I’m a professor,” Webster said, taking the pass off the mirror and putting it in the center console.

“Jesus,” Joe said and the leer was back and Webster had no idea what that meant. “Of what?”

“Uh, literature,” Webster said as he started the car.

“Are you serious? I love to read,” Joe said.

“Do you?” Webster had to admit he was surprised. He couldn’t have explained why, but nothing about Joe screamed bookworm.

“Sure,” Joe said, digging around in his backpack and pulling out a comic book.

“Comic books?”

“Excuse you, this is a graphic novel. It’s thicker,” Joe said, fanning out the pages to make his point. “Besides this is the greatest graphic novel of all time, have some respect.”

“My apologies,” Webster said as he pulled back onto the highway.

“Don’t let it happen again,” Joe said as he removed a torn piece of paper from the novel. “Alan Moore is easily the greatest comic writer of all time. I mean V for Vendetta or The Killing Joke? Oh my god, you do know who the Joker is, don’t you?”

“Yeah, he’s the clown that’s trying to kill Batman.”

“Oh my god, that hurts. That hurts right here,” Joe said, gesturing to his heart.

“If it’s the greatest novel of all time, how come you haven’t read it before?” Webster asked, changing the subject from his shortcomings.

Joe sighed. “I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve read this book.”

“What’s it about?” Webster asked.

“You don’t know The Watchmen? How is that possible? I mean, they made it into a movie.” Joe seemed genuinely stunned. “I mean, not a great one, but still.”

Webster shrugged. “So what’s it about?”

“America in the 1980’s and superheroes have been outlawed and after one of them dies, the remaining members try to figure out what happened to him,” Joe said, not looking up from the novel. “I’m doing a bad job of explaining it because I don’t want to give anything away. It’s just the standard when it comes to novels.”

“So it’s all over and done with in that novel?”

“Well, there are some truly awful prequels that were made after. Never let it be said, DC doesn’t know how to milk a cash cow.” The bitterness was evident in Joe’s tone. “So are you too good for comics?”

“My parents wouldn’t let me read them,” Webster replied. “They have every traditional opinions about literature.”

“So shatter me, what’s your favorite?”

“Fahrenheit 451,” Webster said.

“Really? You favorite book is about burning books?”

“It is so much more than that,” Webster said, shaking his head in disbelief. 

“Ok, professor. Enlighten me. You have an hour. Then I get equal time for why the Joker is more than ‘the clown trying to kill Batman’.”

“Seem fair,” Webster said, rolling his shoulders and getting into professor mode. “Ok, are you timing me?”

*~*

“So after she did all the work and caught Batman, the Joker lets him go?”

“Yep, it’s ego,” Joe said, more than a little surprised that Webster had gotten to the point that he was outraged on Harley’s behalf. Never let it be said that Joe couldn’t sell his girl to a crowd. What did not surprise Joe was that he found the storylines compelling. Once people got over that fact that the story was told in pictures part, there was a comic book for everyone.

“And she stays with him?”

“Of course she does, he’s her puddin’,” Joe said, leaning back in the seat and pulling his leg under him.

“That’s insane.”

“That’s Harley,” Joe said with a shrug. “Love her, love her flaws.”

Joe watched as Webster shook his head. “You know, it’s been a little over two hours and I don’t even know where you are going?”

“We’ve got a ways yet. If you hit the Pacific Ocean, you’ve gone too far,” Joe said, folding the brim of his baseball camp as he looked out the window.

“Albuquerque, New Mexico.” Webster said. “I’m visiting friends.”

“San Francisco.” Joe licked his lip. “I’m going home.”

“So what was in Boston?” Joe wasn’t surprised that the conversation had arrived there. However, it did not mean that Joe was going to sit here and spill his guts like Web majored in Psychology.

“Nothing,” Joe spat. “Look, I appreciate the touchy feely thing you’re trying for, but I’d need half a bottle of Jack for this conversation to even sound like a good idea. Or a fucking cigarette. So tell me about your second favorite book, or anything fuckin’ else.” Joe shifted a little closer to the door. Figured the professor wouldn’t be happy passing the time with books and comics.

Webster leaned forward popped open the ashtray with the heel of his hand. It was obvious that it had been used before even if there weren’t any butts in the tray. Joe dug around in the pocket of his backpack. When he produced the pack of cigarettes and his zippo, he held the pack in Webster’s direction.

He shook his head. “I quit, I don’t…”

Joe shrugged. “You know, quitters never get anywhere in life.” Joe tapped out a cigarette and rolled down the window. Not all the way, just enough to get some airflow.

“You’re completely disregarding the fact that they could kill you?”

“I do a lot of shit that’s going to kill me faster than these,” Joe said and pursed his lips around the cigarette as he lit it.

“Like hitchhiking?”

Joe didn’t offer a response. He didn’t think one was expected. It was also none of Webster’s damn business that in addition to the smoking, he drank too much, and made terrible choices regarding nutrition.

“I still can’t believe she gave up her career for him.” Webster had clearly decided that comics would be an easier subject.

“It only seems crazy once you’ve done it,” Joe said as his eyes tracked the path his smoke took out the window. “When you’re buying the clown suit, it doesn’t seem as cracked.”

There was a long pause in the conversation and Joe knew that his tone had given away way too much.

“That’s what was in Boston,” Webster said, not taking his eyes off the road. The way he said it was as if it had dawned on him and maybe he hadn’t meant to say it out loud.

“No, there’s nothing in Boston,” Joe repeated.

“Fair enough, so what’s in San Francisco?”

“My roommates,” Joe said. The words came easier and weren’t angry. “And my parents and couple of my siblings.”

“A couple?”

“There are six of us.” Joe almost had to laugh as Webster’s eyes widened. “We kinda scattered so not all of us still live in San Fran.”

“Jesus Christ, my parents quit when they hit half that. But who knows, if Annie had been Andrew, they might have kept going. So where do you fall in the six?”

“I’m the oldest.” Joe took a drag of his cigarette, flicking the ash out the cracked window. “I make all the others look like angels.”

Webster smiled and shook his head. “I can’t imagine growing up with six of us in my parents’ house.”

“Trust me, when it’s your turn to move out, no matter how much you love ’em, you run.”

“Is that how you ended up with the roommates?”

“Not at first.” Joe shook his head. “When I moved out, I lived on my own for about six months. But when I first moved out, I bought my roommate’s sofa. Six months later, he and his boyfriend broke up and he moved in with me.”

“And the sofa.”

“And the sofa,” Joe smiled. “We still have that sofa. The zombies will come and that sofa will survive. It’s a sleeper, heaviest son of a bitch alive. Every time we move, we swear we are going to leave it. Every time we end up practically killing ourselves to get it on the truck.”

“Is that where you are heading, the sofa?”

“They still live in the house we used to,” Joe said, the good feeling he’d built following the smoke out the window. “They had another roommate for a while, but it didn’t work out. So they just stayed there. Rent was kicking their ass. Now I guess I’m glad they stuck it out. Don’t know where I’d be going right now if they hadn’t.” Joe wonders now if they knew. Or thought they did. That Joe would be back eventually and need his old room. That was question for Tab. Grant would hedge the question, Tab was too fuckin’ honest for his own good.

“Same place,” Webster said. “They’d just make you sleep on the sofa. Good friends always take you in. So it’s your roommate and his boyfriend?”

“No! God, no,” Joe said. “I don’t think I could do that, like long term. Live with a couple. No, Tab is a drunk we picked up at a bar. So what about you, professor? What’s in New Mexico? Some big fancy conference?”

*~*

Webster had to fight the urge to sigh, Joe seemed strangely caught up in the idea that he was a professor. “No, nothing like that. I’m going down to visit some friends. They just moved down there.”

“I thought you were bullshiting me,” Joe said as he crushed his cigarette out in the ashtray. “That’s an awful long drive for a social call. What’s the matter, you scared of heights?”

Webster shook his head. “Over the course of grading my student’s finals, I went a little off the deep end. Somehow I dreamed up that this drive might turn into some Kerouac-like journey of self-discovery.”

“And how’s that working out for you?”

“Well, it’s only been the first day,” Webster shrugged.

“So you gonna spin this whole road trip into a novel? You better not give me a bunch of flowery dialogue when you write this. I don’t want to read this and find out I’m speaking in fuckin’ purple prose.”

“I don’t think that would be possible,” Webster said with a snort of laughter. “But no, that’s not…I mean, at what he does, Kerouac is the best. There’s no comparison…”

“But you wish there was,” Joe said, pointing at him. “You’re jealous. Bradbury wrote 451 in like a week you said…”

“Nine days. He had short stories to use a starting point.”

“Whatever, and Kerouac didn’t edit any of his shit. I know, I turned that on my English teacher in high school. You should have seen her face. That’s what you’re jealous of. You wish you could write like that. It fucking came easy to them and it chaps your ass.” 

Webster was gobsmacked. How was it that this stranger he’d picked up only four hours ago had managed to put his finger on something some of his friends hadn’t figure out.

“I bet you went to a fancy school, got a nice diploma you hang on your wall. Make all students call you Dr. Webster. And your heroes, did they even go to school?”

Webster shook his head. “Bradbury didn’t. Kerouac went to Columbia, but he dropped out.”

“Is that where you went? Follow his footsteps all the way to Columbia?”

“No, I went to Harvard,” Webster said, clearing his throat.

Joe whistled. “Damn. Your parents must be so proud.”

“Not as proud as you’d think. They weren’t thrilled with literature as a major. My brother, now he majored in law and they are so very proud.” Webster gripped the steering wheel a little tighter. It was always a constant struggle not to give into the twisted way his parents would play him and his brother off of each other.

“That figures,” Joe said, rolling the window back down and lighting another cigarette. The orange flame danced in the breeze, illuminating his face. The lighter closed with a harsh click, leaving only the glowing embers in the inky blackness.

“How does that figure?” Webster asked. He bit his lip as he finished because the words had come out harsher than he intended.

“You want them to be proud of you. Your writing is the adult equivalent of macaroni art. You’re standing there holding it in the kitchen, wanting her to hang it on the fridge. You think Kerouac wrote so that his mommy would love him? Fuck no, he wrote because he wanted to. You want to quit something that will make a difference in your life, stop caring what other people think. Stress will kill you as quick as cancer.”

“You don’t know my family. It’s not even remotely that simple…”

“Of course it isn’t. If it were, everyone would do it.” Webster watched as the embers traveled up to the window and disappeared into the night.

Webster wanted to argue the point. But once distilled, his career choices at their most basic level were macaroni art. He’d decided out of college to get his masters in American literature. He’d considered journalism. Even now looking back on it as Joe smoked and he drove, Webster couldn’t pinpoint the moment he chose professor over reporter. When he’d published his first book, he’d been passionately interested in the subject. Sharks had always interesting to him, since he was kid and his class took a field trip to the aquarium. The research and fieldwork had been fascinating. To this point, it remained the most exciting way Webster had found to spend his summer. He’d been so eager to write the book that he had taken a sabbatical from teaching in the fall. Living off his savings and adrenalin, Webster had completed and edited the book in those eighteen weeks. Even if it was only available on e-book, Webster was proud of it. He would smile as he passed the bulletin board in his department building displaying the works from professors. His was there with the rest, it mattered.

The following christmas, his mother had dispatched the family Christmas card. As always, she included a letter detailing the major events in the family’s lives over the year. She’d mentioned that John had made partner. Anne had graduated from Vassar. Webster’s book had not made the cut. That spring, Webster had first mentioned the idea of the novel to Hoob. Separately these events were noodles, over time they’d managed to arrange themselves for presentation. Joe was right, his parents still weren’t proud.

“Joe, do me a favor and start looking for an exit with a hotel,” Webster said, rubbing his eyes.

“I can drive if you want,” Joe responded. “I used to drive a cab in Boston, so it’s not like I’m going to wreck the car.”

“It’s not that,” Webster said. “I want to get out of this car. I want to sleep in a bed. And I think I’d really like a shower.”

“Sure. You want to drop me at a rest stop before you get there?” Joe asked.

“You want me to drop you off at a rest stop in the middle of the night? Do you remember the last one we passed? It looked like Freddie would wait for you there with a hacksaw.”

“Oh my god, Freddie is the one that gets you in your dreams when you are sleeping. Jason is the one that chases campers around with a machete and a hockey mask. Did you have a childhood?”

“Does it really matter if you still end up dead?”

“The how is everything.” Webster could see Joe shaking his head in the green glow of the radio. 

“I’m trying to offer you half a hotel with two double beds. Can we table my horror movie education for five minutes to decide on that?”

“You want to share a hotel room?”

“Yeah, for my conscience. The alternative is trying to sleep tonight wondering if you ended up in a ditch in pieces. Look, you get a bed to sleep in. A shower in the morning which can only help your chances of getting picked up. Whatever passes for breakfast at a hotel. And a ride to start the day with. And if you get sick of me tomorrow, I will leave you anywhere you want as long as it’s daylight. So what do you say? I’m spending the money whether you are there or not. You might as well take advantage of it.”

Joe was quiet for a moment and Webster heard his lighter click open and closed again. “Fuck it, let’s do it. There’s a Holiday Inn at the next exit.”


	3. Three

Joe leaned against the wall of the hotel, clicking his cigarette lighter opened and closed as he listened to the tinny ringing noise that served as a countdown to leaving Grant a voicemail. The Holiday Inn they’d found was, on the plus side, clean and had free Wi-Fi. There was also a pizza place that was open late and would deliver. Webster had declared a shower and pizza in that order. Joe figured that gave him enough time for a cigarette. 

“Hello?”

“What are you doing answering, I thought you had a date?”

Grant laughed on the other end of the phone. “Unlike some people in this apartment, I don’t put out on the first date.”

“How is Tab?”

“Drooling into our sofa cushions. Where are you?”

“Buffalo. Stopped for the night at a hotel.”

“I’d hoped you’d make it a little further,” Grant said, the disappointment in his voice crossing the distance from California to New York.

“Me too, but I’ve found a pretty decent ride so I thought I’d stick with it.”

“No, you found a college boy. Just because Tab’s asleep now didn’t mean he was when I got home.”

“Sold me out?”

“I hadn’t even gotten the deadbolt locked yet.”

“Ass,” Joe swore, though he should have known better than to expect Tab to keep a secret from Grant. “He’s a prof, I’m not crossing the country with jailbait.”

“Fair enough, what’s his name?”

“Why?”

“Because I’m an overprotective roommate with Google.”

Joe smiled and shook his head. “David Webster.”

There was a pause before Grant spoke again. “Well Christ, Lieb. That explains so much. Only you would hitchhike across the country and find a guy that’s your type.”

“It sucks because he’s so damn pretty and then he opens his mouth.”

“Aww, poor baby. How you suffer,” Grant mocked. “Your life is so hard. So he teaches biology or something?”

“Literature. Where did you get bio from?”

“He’s written a book on sharks and according to Amazon, it’s pretty good. Sorry, but when the book’s nonfiction, my brain doesn’t assume literature.”

“It fucking figures he’d have weird hobbies.”

“So no judgment, but what are you doing with him?”

“Bumming a ride.”

“Joe-”

“Look, whatever else Tab spun out for you-”

“Tab doesn’t have to spin anything out for me, Lieb. This is the type of guy you date. If you had spent four hours in a bar with him, you‘d be in his pants by now. So you spend six hours in a car with him…just a friendly warning, proceed with caution. I’m little worried about you right now. You date guys like this because you like a challenge, you like the arguing. Arguing is pretty good way to pass a car ride.”

“You think I’m going to fall head over heels for this guy? That’s fuckin’ nuts.”

“If you say so.”

“It’s stupid because I don’t know if he’s actually seen a movie in the last ten years. And his comic book reference base is…I don’t think I can fuck someone that can’t name at least five Batman villains.”

“Just be careful, ok? I’m little worried about you. Your decision making skills have been a little off lately.”

“Is that why you didn’t tell me you were dating someone?”

“Joe, you are hitchhiking across the country and that’s nuts, ok? And if you don’t think I shouldn’t be worried about you right now, ask yourself what you would think if the roles here were reversed.”

“You wouldn’t have ended up in Boston in the first place,” Joe said, taking a drag from his cigarette.

“No, I wouldn’t have been that brave, but there’s a difference between brave and stupid. Just do me a favor and don’t do something stupid.”

“You want me to ditch the professor?”

“That’s actually the only part that I feel good about. He doesn’t have a serial killer look about him. At least I know who you are with and can easily turn it over to proper authorities.”

“You’re really worried something might happen to me?”

“And you are incredibly cavalier about how realistic of a possibility that is. Jesus, Joe. You could be hit by a car.” Joe had to close his eyes as he listened to his friend’s voice crack.

“I can stick with the prof until Albuquerque,” Joe said.

“We could probably get you a pretty cheap direct flight from there. And don’t say no, just think about it. You’ve got a couple days of driving before you hit Albuquerque, so just kick the idea around.”

“Ok,” Joe said, only because for a second there, it had almost been like he could feel the worry coming through the phone. “So tell me about this guy you’re seeing.” Joe grabbed for a subject change, anything to get Grant to stop thinking about the dangers associated with hitchhiking.

“It was just a first date,” Grant said. “Don’t make it sound like I’ve kept a whole relationship from you. It just felt like a shit thing to do, like I was throwing it in your face. And I didn’t want to jinx it, he’s kinda hot.”

“You get to be happy, even if I’m not,” Joe said, hating that his friends had started trying to protect him from things.

“And you get to be miserable?” Grant countered.

“How am I going to give you shit if you don’t give me all the material?”

“Don’t worry too much. Tab is picking up the slack in your absence.”

“He better be,” Joe said. “You’re so cute when you’re worried whether or not a guy likes you. So did you try on over half your closet before you left to go out with Mr. Artist?”

“Artist? What has Tab been telling you? I met this guy at an art opening the store supplied the liquor for. He works for the phone company…well, I guess he draws a little-“

“I’m sure he’d like to draw you like one of his French girls.”

Grant failed to conceal a snort of laughter on the other end of the phone. “Tab is going to be pissed you got to that one first.”

“If he missed that one, he’s not really picking up the slack,” Joe replied.

“Well, you’ll just have to tell the professor to get lead out, you are desperately needed in San Fran.”

Joe felt the smile tug at the corners of his mouth. Every mile he traveled away from Boston seemed to give him a little more of himself back. So maybe it was dangerous, but it was exactly what he needed. 

*~*

Webster spread out on the hotel bed, a pair of pillows propped up behind his head. He’d gotten out of the shower to find that Joe wasn’t there, though his duffle was. Webster tried not think about how it made him feel that Joe might have taken off. Relieved that he wouldn’t be facing a day of driving by himself, Webster had pulled on sweatpants and a white t-shirt that was fraying around the neck. He spread out on the bed closest to the door since Joe’s duffel had been carelessly tossed on the other. As Webster reached for the remote, he knew there were other things he should be doing. For starters, he probably should have called Lip. Webster’s fingers had even hovered over Lip’s number in his phone when they had first gotten into the room. He’d chickened out and opted for sending a text.

Stopped in Buffalo for the night. Plan to hit it hard tomorrow.

The same text had been forwarded onto Hoob. Webster was a little embarrassed that he hadn’t made it a little further. Mostly though, he knew that if Lip got him on the phone, he’d somehow get Webster to admit he’d picked up a hitchhiker. And even though he’d been trying to rationalize that decision in a way that made sense, he knew he hadn’t settled on anything that would be satisfactory to Lip. There was at least a hundred different reasons why picking up a hitchhiker was a bad idea. And if he was struggling to think of any of them, Webster was sure he could count on Lip to list all of them. He figured if he was going to get a safety lecture, he’d wait until morning when he was rested.

He also should probably take out his computer. Open up the novel, pretend to look at it. Maybe be adventurous and change the wording around a bit. Maybe go crazy and start typing new words. That was why he was avoiding calling Hoob. He knew Hoob would ask about the novel and Webster would have nothing to report. He’d been avoiding thinking about it all day. He had no ideas for the ending. He’d also then feel guilty about avoiding it. Like he was breaking a promise to Hoob.

As he clicked through the channels, he learned that even if it wasn’t actually Shark Week yet, the Discovery channel seemed to be in gear up mode. So that’s how Joe found him when he came back from smoking. Laying on the bed, in his pajamas, watching a documentary on tiger sharks.

“Hey, shark boy. Did you order the pizza yet?”

“Yeah,” Webster said absently as Joe started digging through his duffel. After negotiating pizza toppings with Joe, Webster was strongly considering trying his hand at the crisis in the Middle East. Surely that would be easier. On its way to their hotel room was a half meat lovers and half grilled chicken, green peppers, red onions, and black onions. Thin crust, and they’d still probably be arguing over the crust had Webster not given up on the hand tossed. “Half meat lovers thin as requested.”

“Sorry, mom. Sorry, God,” Joe said as he threw a t-shirt over his shoulder and continued to root through his bag.

“What?” Webster not quite believing Joe had just quoted what he thought Joe had quoted.

“It’s from this book-”

“I know what it’s from,” Webster cut him off. “How is Shannon relevant?”

“Shannon is always relevant, but right now it has to do with the pork. I’m a Jew and my mother and God would rather I gave that up. But since I fuck guys as often as I can, I don’t think giving up pepperoni and ham is going to keep me out of hell. But seriously this whole time you’ve been holding out about reading Palahniuk? I feel like we wasted the last six hours.”

“Everyone’s read Invisible Monsters,” Webster said.

“Everyone’s read Fight Club, or pretends they’ve read Fight Club. No one has read Invisible Monsters.”

“Have you read the Remix yet?”

“No, I just finished Pygmy. It’s pretty fucked up, but then aren’t they all?” Joe said, sounding a little disappointed with himself. “The Boston Public Library was a constant source of disappoint.”

Webster got up off the bed and dug around in the side pockets of his computer bag before finding the paperback with a lipstick smeared blonde on the cover. He turned to Joe and tossed him the book. Joe caught it and his face lit up as he turned the book right side up. “You have to keep track of each chapter that you read because the book asks you to jump around. And if you don’t keep track, you’ll miss one. Or five.”

“No matter how careful you are, there’s going to be that feeling that you missed something,” Joe quoted, his fingers sliding over the cover. “I kinda want to read the original first to compare…”

“I have it in the truck,” Webster said, because he did. It seemed fitting to bring Shannon and Brady on a road trip. After all, he’d been invited on theirs.

“You’ve been holding out on me,” Joe leered at Webster in a way that made him want to shift uncomfortably. “Fuck it,” Joe said, sitting down the corner of the bed. “I’ve read it enough times that I should remember how it goes.”

“It doesn’t start at the fire,” Webster said.

“Fuck,” Joe swore, pressing the book to his chest. “I love the fire even more when you read it again because Evie deserves it all. Some of Shannon’s best lines are in the fire.”

“I think you fall in love with her because of those,” Webster said.

“Yeah.” Joe tipped the book down so he could see the cover again. “Fuck it, I’m going to read it anyway.” Joe slid back so he was sitting against the headboard. Webster returned his body to his bed and his attention to the sharks. As he lay waiting for the pizza, he was surprised by how comfortable it was to sit there and listen to the rustling of Joe turning pages.

*~*

Joe woke up to the sound of the alarm blaring next to him. He reached his hand out from under the covers and slammed his open palm onto the clock, silencing it. It had been set for 6:30, much to his protest. But someone had insisted on getting an early start. Joe groaned and pulled the covers tighter around him. He strongly considered going back to sleep, but then he registered the smell of coffee wafting towards him. He groaned again, but this time he threw off the covers and padded across the hotel room. The night before when the professor had set the alarm clock on the desk, Joe had taken on the more practical concern of the coffee maker. Joe knew if Web was going to ask him anything more complicated than his name, he’d need a cup of coffee. The hotel room was cold and Joe regretted just sleeping in his boxers and a faded concert t-shirt. He rubbed his hands across his face before he pulled the plastic wrap off one the coffee cups. He dug around in the caddy until he found a caramel creamer. He was pouring coffee into the paper cup and chewing on a coffee stirrer when Webster got out of bed.

“I’m going to grab a shower, unless you want it?” Webster sat on the edge of bed, his dark hair ruffled by sleep.

“Get right after it,” Joe said as he pulled open a package of creamer. He knew he’d need at least one cup of coffee if he was going to avoid slipping and falling in the shower. 

“Is it still coffee if you put that much creamer in it?” Webster asked as he squeezed past Joe to get into the bathroom.

“Fuck you,” Joe said, stirring his coffee with the stirrer from his mouth as he made his way back to bed. He sat down on the bed as he heard the water come on in the next room. Joe yawned as he retrieved the remote from the bedside table. Once the TV was on, he set about trying to find the Cartoon Network. Once he found it, he pulled the covers back up around his waist.

“Damn it,” he swore as he discovered that they were showing Teen Titans Go. Why DC had to take everything he liked about the original and kill it, he would never know. Even the animation sucked now. He got sucked in despite this and jumped when the bathroom door opened and Web came out of the bathroom wearing jeans and towel drying his hair. And Joe proceeded to jam the coffee stirrer into his cheek.

“Ow, fuck,” Joe said, jerking the cup back from his face.

“You ok?” Webster said, turning to face him.

“Yeah,” Joe replied. “Burnt my tongue.” Because that sounded better than ‘I hadn’t expected you to have chest hair and it’s kinda hot. So I just came shockingly close to blinding myself with a coffee stirrer.’

Joe threw off the covers and headed over to his duffel to find a new shirt, figuring that he could wear the same jeans from the day before. Joe maneuvered his way around Webster and into the bathroom. Once the door was closed behind him, he tossed his clothes on the counter, braced his hands against the counter, and gave himself a hard look in mirror. He seriously needed to get his shit together. Grant was right. Tab was wrong. Fucking the professor had bad idea written all the fuck over it. He opted for a cold shower because it could only help him at this point. Because he refused on principle to jerk off to thoughts of Webster while he was in the next room. He was just coming out of a, frankly, messy break up. What the hell was he going to do with another crush that was geographically undesirable? Because fuck if he was moving back to Boston.

Nope, he just wasn’t going to do it, he told himself as he pulled on a Stanford t-shirt he’d nicked from Grant a few years before. Every time Grant saw it, he’d glare at Joe, but he never actually stole it back. And possession was nine tenths of the law.

“So are we going to breakfast or what?” Joe said as he exited the bathroom. He groaned internally at how harsh the words had sounded. It was going to be a challenge to create some emotional distance and still be someone that Webster wanted to keep around.

“Sure,” Webster said, getting his things together.

Joe could tell he took it the wrong way. But what could Joe do? ‘Sorry I’m trying to keep you at arm’s length because I don’t think we should bang?’ Joe sighed as he started putting his things in his duffel. When he got to Webster’s copy of the remix, he walked over to Webster and held it out for the other man to take.

“You hang on to it,” Webster said. “You can read it while we drive.”

“Thanks,” Joe said.

They made their way down to the car and Joe felt like shit the whole way down because he’d snapped at Webster. It wasn’t his fault that Joe was a basketcase. As they were loading their bags into the trunk, Joe noticed a copy of Palahniuk’s Haunted sitting on top of a milk crate in the trunk.

“You shouldn’t read this, it might give you nightmares,” Joe said, picking up the book.

“You know I’m a grown man,” Webster said, taking the book and tossing it back into the trunk.

“Dude,” Joe said, picking the book back up and shaking it at Webster. “This is about a writers’ retreat that turns into the Donner Party. Pretty sure that’s going to hit a little too close to home.”

“I think I can handle it,” Webster said, taking the book back and putting it in the crate before closing the trunk.

“Ok, just don’t come crying to me and absolutely don’t read Gut’s in public because I’ve heard some people have thrown up.”

“Did you?”

“No, but that was the most uncomfortable train ride I’ve ever been on. Because you want to have a reaction, but you can’t. Just promise me no writers’ retreats ever.”

“They don’t all dissolve into cannibalism,” Webster said and Joe could tell he was trying not to laugh.

“Still,” Joe said.

“I won’t, but not for that reason.” And something about Webster darkened and Joe filed that away for later. 

They head to breakfast. The spread is pretty standard - eggs, bacon, cereal, and too many carbs. It wasn’t until they got past the bacon. And there sitting on the counter was the most glorious thing he’d ever seen. What it amounted to was pretty much a Xerox machine for pancakes. Latterly, you input how many you want and they slide out the side. Joe was seriously impressed and kinda wanted one.

“It won’t fit in the trunk,” Webster said as he nudged him towards the condiments.

“Kill joy,” Joe muttered, but Webster was smiling at him. And Joe figured that he was fucked because that meant something to him now.

*~*

Webster sat on the picnic table at the rest stop and opened his contacts to call Lip. Joe was laying on the table behind him, nose buried in The Remix. Webster had sent them a text when they left that morning, but because of the time difference, he hadn’t tried calling. He’d left Hoob a voicemail, but he was probably halfway to work already. Webster sighed as he listened to the phone ring in his ear.

“Hey boy, you got an earlier start I see?”

“Yeah, trying to make up for rain delay and starting late yesterday,” Webster said. “We’re just barely in Pennsylvania.” Webster caught the pronoun change the second it came out of his mouth.

“We? Are you counting the novel as a passenger now?” Webster could hear the laughter coloring Lip’s voice. “I know it’s giving you fits but-”

“I picked up a hitchhiker,” Webster blurted out.

“You what? Are you out of your fuckin’ mind?” Webster could count on one hand the number of times that he’d heard Lip raise his voice. It always made him uncomfortable and made him want to scramble to find a solution. This was the first time he’d ever been the one getting yelled at. It made him feel shit in a way that his parents never did when they had taken a similar tone. Joe gave a snort of laughter from behind him, Lip’s voice carrying enough that Joe could hear it.

“Webster picked up a hitchhiker.”

Ahh, the moment was complete. Mom was informing dad what their wayward son had done.  
“He could steal the car and leave Web for dead.”

Apparently Ron wasn’t having the reaction that Lip had hoped for since he felt compelled to explain the situation. It took a lot to get Ron agitated. Normally nothing other than harm to Lip would register with him. So since Lip wasn’t the one crossing the country with a blood thirsty killer, Ron probably wouldn’t lose any sleep over it.

“Since he’s been with me since Massachusetts, I think if he were going to off me, he’d have done it already,” Webster said, not really expecting anyone to register that he was speaking.

“It’s a long way to New Mexico,” Joe said dryly as he turned a page in the book.

Webster turned and wacked Joe’s knee with the back of his hand. He saw Joe smile before he hid his face behind the book again.

“Wait,” Lip said, something obviously just coming to him. “You mean you stayed the night last night with this guy? Mother of God. Webster, do you have any idea how crazy this is?”

“I know it’s not exactly normal,” Webster answered. “It’s nice though, keeps me out of my own head and from driving off the road at night.”

There was a pause on the other end of the phone and Webster waited while Lip kicked this new information around.

“I still don’t like this. In fact, I think this a really stupid idea, but if you are going to go through with it, I want you to call me every day. Just so I know you aren’t in a ditch somewhere.” Webster could hear the sound of Lip deflating, realizing he probably wasn’t going win this one. “It’s just I worry about you and I’d like to know you are safe.”

So not defeat then, rather just a change in strategy. Since anger hadn’t worked, let’s take a mighty swing at guilt.

“I will,” Webster said. “Don’t worry about me so much, ok?”

“You’ve made it pretty hard not to at this point,” Lip replied.

Goodbyes were exchanged and Webster promised, twice more, that he would call when they stopped for the night.

“My friends think you’re a serial killer who’s cutting their teeth on hitchhikers,” Joe said as Webster hung up the phone and they got up off the table. “I’m a little offended that yours only think I’m capable of grand theft auto.”

“Well, they don’t know you like I do,” Webster said as they got in the car, Webster depositing his phone into one of the drink holders.

Joe smiled as they pulled out of the rest stop and back onto the I-90. As they drove, Webster heard his phone buzz.

“You’re getting a text. Well, a series of texts actually,” Joe corrected.

“Who are they from?” Webster said, figuring he already knew the answer to that.

“Hoob?” The question in Joe’s voice was evident.

It figured, when anger and guilt had failed him, Lip had called Hoob figuring there would be strength in numbers. Webster could see Hoob sitting in the conference room sending progressively more frantic texts to Webster under the table. Under normal circumstances, it would be nice to know his friends cared so much.

“It’s his nickname,” Webster explained. “His last name is Hoobler. What do they say?”

Joe’s fingers slid across his phone. “Lip says you picked up a hitchhiker, question mark explanation point. Tell me the two of you are having me on. Web, question mark, explanation point.”

“Text him back-”

“You know, I didn’t sign up to sit here and take dictation,” Joe said.

“Well, since the only reason they’re freaking out is because I picked you up, do you think maybe you could help me out a little here?”

Joe sighed the sigh of the heavily put upon. “Fine.”

“Ok, so text him ‘Nope, his name is Joe’,” Webster said.

Joe smiled. “You’re going to want a comma after nope, aren’t you? I can tell you’re one of those weirdos that uses proper grammar when texting.”

Webster gave a noncommittal shrug. He figured there was no point in arguing with Joe when he was right.

“Web, have you lost your ever loving mind, question mark, two explanation points,” Joe read. Hoob was responding remarkably quickly. “Are you trying to kill me, two question marks, four explanation points. Do we have a reply?”

“You’re the one that keeps wanting me to try new things,” Webster said.

Joe smiled as his fingers moved across the face of the phone. “That’s not what I meant and you know it, followed by five explanation points.”

“I don’t think we have to respond to that, strictly speaking,” Webster said and Joe returned his phone to his drink tray.

Webster knew that the easiest way to placate his friends would be to just drop Joe off. The very idea was repellant. The second he thought it, he dismissed it. That meant something, something he couldn’t name even if he tried. It went beyond a sense of responsibility. If it had only been that, he could have dropped Joe off and waited around until he found another ride. Problem solved, no need to worry about him. But it was more than that. Because when he’d walked out of the restroom, drying his hands on his jeans, and saw Joe reclining on the table, he had gone over to sit with him to call Lip. Webster was going to be crammed into his Focus for the rest of the day with Joe. In a sea of other choices, Webster had picked the one closest to Joe. That meant something, something he really didn’t want to name.

*~*

Joe had officially lost his damn mind. There was no reason that in addition to thirty two ounces of soda and Skittles, he’d bought lube and condoms. No reason, other than he’s crazy and can’t shake the voice in his head that sounds strangely like Tab. And he was a little impressed that a gas station on the side of the interstate had a section straight out of a porn store. That wasn’t a reason to buy anything. He wasn’t even sure if the professor liked boys.

“So Stanford,” Webster said as they drove.

“Yeah, it’s not mine,” Joe said, smoothing out the front of the shirt. “Well, it might be now. I stole it from my roommate to wear to a football game. He went there, I just never gave it back. What, didn’t think I was smart enough to go there?” Even though he was pissed about it, Joe was little relieved that Webster kept getting under his skin. It made it easier to keep him at arm’s length. And it kept him from thinking about the bag he’d hastily shoved down in his backpack while Webster was filling up the car.

“No,” Webster said, shaking his head. “Not everything I say is a dig. It’s just when people buy a t-shirt for themselves, normally it fits.”

Joe rolled his shoulders. Web was right, Grant’s shoulders were broad and he had couple of inches on Joe, so it was probably a size too big.

“Is this the friend that you are moving in with?”

“Yeah, one of them,” Joe said, nodding before digging around in the outside pocket of his backpack for his lighter and his pack of cigarettes for want of something to do with his hands.

“But not your boyfriend?”

“No,” Joe said definitively. He couldn’t even remember a time, not even when he’d first looked at Grant and thought ‘hmm, could be fun.’ Grant was always one of those people that had fallen firmly into the friends’ column with no thought about it going the other way.

“Well, it’s just that stealing clothing is something people normally do with someone they’re attracted to.”

“Or just because they are too lazy to do their own laundry,” Joe replied. “Just because I’m gay doesn’t mean I find all guys attractive.” Nope, lately just you, Joe groaned internally. “I’m pretty sure you don’t find every girl you meet attractive.”

“Well, girls aren’t the sum total of my sexual orientation,” Webster said. “But no, I see your point.”

Joe made a considering noise. “Bi, I wouldn’t have gotten that. And I’m normally not wrong about these things.”

“Well, I am a little out of practice when it comes to having a boyfriend. Hoob’s wife, Cara…we don’t have the same taste in guys. Thankfully, she finally stopped trying to set me up with them.”

Internally Joe was rubbing his hands together with glee. He could work with bi. He knew rationally there was still a difference between likes guys and likes me. But it didn’t seem as vast as it had that morning.

“But she does alright with the girls?” Joe knew why he was asking. This was a conversation about sex. It was a train of thought that could only help him.

“It was a concession on my part,” Webster said. “She’s not going to leave me alone, but if I take a girl out on a couple of dates, she backs off for a bit.”

“You don’t want a girlfriend?” Joe hoped he hadn’t sounded overly excited when he said that.

“I don’t want a relationship,” Webster said. “I’m bad at them, I start writing or teaching and I end up not being very attentive. It’s not I don’t want to be, I just get lost in what I’m doing. People’s feelings get hurt and it’s just easier this way.”

Joe didn’t know what to say. He didn’t know how to respond to that. There were feelings here that he wasn’t really ready to encounter. Feelings that he hadn’t ever planned on experiencing at all.

“Besides,” Webster said with a shrug. “It’s the only time everyone seems to agree that I’m bi. The second I start dating a girl, my mother becomes so relieved. The boys were just phase, it’s ok, he’s straight.”

Webster shook his head. “I’m used to that from her. That’s not what really hurts. It really hurts when you get it from the other side. When my sexuality gets treated like a stepping stone to coming out as gay. That hurts way more then some random straight guy asking for a threesome.”

“Does that actually happens?” Joe asked because the conversation had gotten far too serious for his liking.

“Once when I was in college,” Webster said with an embarrassed shift of his shoulders.

“I don’t believe you, not even for a second. That doesn’t happen, not even in San Francisco does that happen.”

“Fine, don’t, but it did.”

“Did you do it?”

“No. God no.” And Joe did not need firsthand knowledge that Webster was cute when he blushed. 

“Ok, now I find the story slightly more believable,” Joe said, shifting in his seat so he could get a better look at Webster’s face.

“Gee, thanks,” Webster said.

“Hey, it’s not my fault that you don’t look like the kinda guy that would be up for a three-way. But out of morbid curiosity, why not?”

“He wasn’t my type.” Webster absently rubbed his neck. “And that was so far out of my comfort range.”

“I image that’s a pretty small range,” Joe said, before lighting a cigarette. 

“Shut up,” Webster said and he made to take a swipe at Joe’s leg and hit his hand on the center console instead. “Ow fuck,” he swore as he withdrew his hand.

“That’s what you get.” Joe said, around his laughter.

A buzzing noise from the console sounded, indicating Webster had a text. Joe leaned over and retrieved the phone. “It’s from Hoob. ‘Still not dead’ followed by two question marks. He has flare for the punctuation, this one.”

“That’s why he’s my agent and not my editor. Tell him, ‘Yes, I’m fine. I’ll be back on the second’.”

“What happens on the second?” Joe asked as he typed out Webster’s message.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Webster said, the teasing humor gone from his voice. “You can ask me anything else but that.”

“Anything?” Webster should have known that it was dangerous to give Joe that kind of power.

“Go for it,” Webster replied dryly.

“Ok,” Joe said, leaning back into his chair. “When was the first time you had sex?”

Any awkwardness that developed was worth it for the look on Webster’s face and the small swerve that the car gave. It had been a truly long time since Joe had laughed that hard.


	4. Four

By the time that they pulled into another Holiday Inn, Webster was about five minutes away from slamming Joe into a wall. The biggest problem was Joe knew it too. In the beginning, talking about sex seemed preferable to talking about his novel. That’s because he was thinking of the way he would describe sex to someone who was still, for the most part, a stranger. He wasn’t going to get overly descriptive, more of a just the facts approach. He hadn’t counted on Joe turning it around when it was his turn and describing his first time in pretty lurid detail. How he didn’t see that one coming, he may never know, but he didn’t. He should also probably be commended for not putting the car in the ditch at any point during the drive.

The bane of his existence was currently leaning against the counter of the front desk. His duffel bag was resting by his feet, backpack slung over both his shoulders. He wasn’t paying Webster any attention, he was most likely texting someone. So it wasn’t what he was doing, it was how he was doing it. Joe’s left leg was braced behind him, causing the rest of his body to look longer. Since he’d abandoned his baseball cap, his hair was falling carelessly across his forehead. And Webster itched to run his fingers through it.

He was saved from doing something truly embarrassing in the middle of a hotel lobby by the night manager returning with two keys, a warm smile, and the information that breakfast started at 6:30. Webster returned the smile, took the keys, and thanked her for her help. He tried not to watch Joe’s ass as they walked towards the elevator. He really did. He failed miserably. Blessedly, he did manage to avert his gaze when Joe turned around as he entered the elevator. He took the opposite side, leaving Joe to press the numbers on the control panel.

“Four,” Webster said, trying his best to sound casual. He didn’t pay attention as Joe pressed the buttons because he was deliberately staring at his white knuckle grip on the handle of his suitcase. In his peripheral vision, he saw the doors close and felt the lurch of the elevator as it started moving. Webster leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes, trying to find some kind of inner calm. He had just about convinced himself that doing anything with Joe would be a bad idea when he felt the elevator roll to a stop. His eyes shot open to take in scene on the other side of the elevator. Joe had reached out and pressed the stop button on the control panel.

“Oops,” he said, smirking broadly.

Webster had every intention of telling him to knock it off, but as he watched Joe pull his bottom lip over his teeth, his resolve melted. All but flinging his suitcase aside, Webster crossed the elevator. When he got to Joe, he pushed him back against the wall. As he did, he grabbed the back of Joe’s neck and pulled him into a bruising kiss. As he pulled away, he pressed the hold button again, starting up the elevator.

“I just paid for a bed and we are going to fucking use it,” Webster said.

“Should have known that college boy wouldn’t be up for sex in an elevator,” Joe said, wiping his bottom lip with the pad of him thumb.

“Shut up,” Webster said, shaking his head because he was strongly considering it.

“I’m kinda surprised you made it this far,” Joe said, leaning forward so he was speaking directly into Webster’s ear. “Thought we would’ve pulled over on the side of the road, but college boy has standards. Wants to do it in a bed.”

“I hate you so much right now,” Webster said, leaning his head into the crook of Joe’s neck.

“And yet you still want to fuck me.” As he spoke, Webster could feel Joe’s lips moving against his ear.

Webster was spared having to reply by the ding of the elevator arriving at their floor. Webster took a deep breath and pulled away from Joe to collect his suitcase from where it had tipped over on the floor. Once the doors opened, Joe took off like a shot. Webster followed behind him, suitcase rolling after him.

“Could you go any slower?” Joe was leaning against the door to their room.

“Maybe I like making you wait?”

Joe smirked. “Don’t you think it’s a little late to pretend you have the upper hand?”

Webster shook his head as he slipped the card key into the lock, only to have the red light flash.

“Need some help there, Professor?”

“You know, for someone who didn’t go to college,” Webster said as he opened the door on the second try. “You have a surprisingly large professor kink going.”

“And it does nothing for you, right?” Joe winked as he walked past Webster into the room.

“Fuck you,” Webster said as he entered the hotel and closed the door behind him.

“Yeah.” Joe turned around, walking backwards towards the bed. “That’s the idea.”

Webster moved quickly across the room to where Joe was. This time it was Joe that grabbed for him, pulling him forward by his shirt so he could kiss him again. Webster grabbed the back of Joe’s thighs and used the leverage to pick him up. He carried him the short distance to the bed before depositing him roughly onto it. He leaned forward, pushing Joe back towards to the headboard.

“Your damn backpack,” Webster swore as he pushed the straps off Joe’s shoulders.

“You’re going to be glad we have it in a minute,” Joe said, pulling the pack out from behind him. “You’re going to like what I picked up while you filled the car up.”

“You spent half the car ride winding me up on purpose?”

“Mission accomplished,” Joe said as he pulled his t-shirt off over his head.

Webster grabbed him around the middle and hauled him forward before attacking his mouth again. Pulling back, he set on the line of Joe’s neck, mouthing and sucking the skin tightened over the tendons of Joe’s neck. Joe’s neck had been driving him crazy over the last couple of days.

“Get this off,” Joe said through gritted teeth as he lifted Webster’s shirt. Webster pulled back enough so that Joe could get it over his head. After the shirt was tossed in the direction of the wall, Joe set his attention on undoing Webster’s belt. “We’ll do foreplay later,” Joe said as he yanked Webster’s belt though the loops of his pants. “Because you have a lot to learn if you think we are only doing this once tonight.”

“Shit,” Webster swore as he worked Joe’s fly open. The remainder of their clothing was shed and tossed around the room without any thought to where it landed. Webster was pretty sure his boxers ended up in one of the lamp shades, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Joe pulled him down on the bed and between his thighs. Joe fumbled with the zipper of the outer pocket of his backpack, digging out a tube of lube and box of condoms before knocking the bag onto the floor. Joe got the cap off the lube before Webster snatched it out of his hand.

“If you won’t let me do foreplay, you’re going to let me do this,” Webster said. After all, this was his favorite part. He liked to watch his partner’s face as he slowly opened them up. He liked to watch as they came apart and Joe did not disappoint. He gripped Webster’s shoulders tightly, the blunt edge of his nails pressing against Webster’s skin. He moaned, he keened, and when he tipped his head back, Webster bit at his collarbone hard enough to bruise.

Joe tore the box of condoms open, removed one from the box, and tore the wrapper open with his teeth. Webster closed his eyes and dragged his teeth over Joe’s shoulder as he felt Joe slide the condom on him. “Come on, Professor. Time to show me what you can do.”

Joe guided him into position and as Webster slid inside, his lube coated fingers struggled for purchase on Joe’s hip. He tried to set a slow gradual pace in order to make this last. Joe had other ideas. He hitched his leg around Webster’s waist and used the leverage to rock up to meet Webster.

“Come on, harder.”

Webster increased his rhythm, his hips slamming down to meet Joe’s as he thrust forward. The sound of skin slapping together filled the room, punctuated by moans and Joe’s broken curses. Webster reached between their heaving chests to get his hand on Joe’s dick, trying to find a counter rhythm to their frenzied speed.

“Oh fuck, Web,” Joe gasped as he came over Webster’s hand. Joe’s tightening muscles caused Webster’s thrusts to stutter before he found his rhythm again. A few frantic thrusts and his vision blurred as he came. He rested his forehead against Joe’s shoulder as he regained his bearings. Joe’s fingers slipped through his hair.

“Fuck, college boy. I didn’t think you had that in you.”

*~*

Joe woke up that morning as he had the morning before, to an alarm sounding. He groaned and pulled the covers tighter around him. When the noise stopped, he opened his eyes and stared at their alarm clock. It read six o’clock. It took a second of gears grinding in Joe’s head for him to realize that he probably heard an alarm from a neighboring room. The process of gradually waking up caused him to become more aware of his surroundings. Particularly of the fact that Webster’s arm was slung across his back and his fingers were resting against Joe’s hip. As Joe rolled over, he felt Webster’s fingers tighten over his skin.

He got a look at Webster and he had to admit he was cute in a weird way, first thing in the morning. His mouth was slightly open and he was snoring ever so slightly. His hair was a rumpled mess and Joe figured he was probably to blame for that. There was also a fairly noticeable bruise on the ball Webster’s shoulder. That he knows he’s to blame for, but since Webster had seemed hell bent on marking him, Joe decided turnabout was fair play.

Webster’s fingers tightened and relaxed again against Joe’s hip. Normally Joe was not one to cuddle. Even when he had a boyfriend, even when they were happy, Joe had his half of the bed and he was the only one allowed on it. When cuddling had been forced upon him, he’d lay there staring at the wall until his partner moved. So Joe was certain that Webster’s arm hadn’t been there when he’d fallen asleep the night before. If it had been, he’d have removed it, not overly worried about sparing Webster’s feelings. So that meant at some point in the night, Web had reached out and found him. There was something endearing about that idea and the way that those fingers moved along his hip. The implied feelings of ownership should have caused Joe to shrug off Webster’s touch, get out of bed and start getting his shit together to get a new ride.

He didn’t, he just laid there and watched Webster sleep. That right there should have sent Joe running for the hills. He’d never done that before. When he woke up, he either tried to go back to sleep or got up and started getting ready. But he wasn’t and he didn’t know what to think about the fact that he wasn’t. There was no reason for feelings here. In fact, there were several good reasons not to have feelings here.

Joe sat up, disturbing Webster’s hold as he did so. Webster made a disgruntled noise and shifted towards Joe. Joe reached out his hand and stroked his fingers though Webster’s hair, attempting to bring order to the chaos. After a few passes, he gave it up as a lost cause and got out of bed. As Joe pulled on his boxers, there was another unhappy noise from the bed and he could hear the shifting of the sheets.

“What?”

“I’m going to take a shower,” Joe said, hunting out clean clothes from his duffel.

There was more shifting before Webster spoke again. “Is that an offer?”

“Go back to sleep,” Joe said as he walked across the hotel room.

If Joe had expected the shower to clear his head and sort out all his feelings for Webster, then he would have been disappointed. Realistically, he’d just been hoping to get his hair clean. He put on his jeans and pulled on a black t-shirt over his head before he exited the bathroom. He went for the coffee machine first thing and only once he’d poured himself a cup did he notice Webster was sitting up in the bed. The sheets were pulled up to his waist and he was tapping away at his phone. His brow was furrowed and he didn’t look pleased.

“Somebody die?” Joe said as he pulled the top of a cup of creamer.

“I have to do a book signing as part of the book tour at each stop. So to solve the problem of how do you sign an e-book, Hoob is going to provide cards.” Webster shook his head and slid his fingers across his phone. “I have to call Hoob.”

“What’s wrong?”

“These cards make it look like I’m doing a promotional tour for Jaws,” Webster spat the last word like it was something distasteful.

This was probably a moment where Webster needed sympathy, but all Joe had for him was laughter.

Webster threw the sheets off to reveal he’d found his boxers when he’d retrieved his phone. He walked over to Joe, holding out his phone.

“I wrote a serious book about sharks, this looks like a made-for-TV movie.”

As Joe looked at the screen, he had to admit Webster did have a point. It looked eerily like the poster for Jaws.

“I would watch that movie,” Joe said, pointing at the phone.

Webster sighed, rolled his eyes, and proceeded to his suitcase.

“I know, I know,” Joe said, trying to stave off another lecture about the bad reputation of sharks. “Let’s just get ready and have some breakfast. You can work yourself into a fury and then you can call him before we hit the road.”

“These are so bad,” Webster said, pointing the phone towards Joe again.

“I know,” Joe repeated, walking towards Webster and taking the phone from his hand. “But take a shower because I’m not going down to breakfast with you still smelling like sex.”

“This a representation of my career,” Webster said, gesturing to the phone.

“And it’s a bad one and you can yell at him after you’ve had a shower,” Joe said, giving Webster a shove in the middle of his back.

“You know, this is the kind of crap that leads to-”

“The kind of mass hysteria that causes people to think sharks are mindless killers. Shower,” Joe said, arms crossed over his chest.

Webster sighed, but at least this time he made his way to the bathroom. As Joe set Webster’s phone next to the coffee maker, he knew he was going to have to call his friends too. Because as he stood there trying to calm Webster’s anxiety, he’d sounded way too much like Webster’s boyfriend for his liking.

*~*

Webster leaned back against the trunk of his car as he listened to the ringing sound of Hoob’s phone. He’d tried calling the office, but he’d just gotten the voicemail. It figured that after sending him the worst concept art in the history of time, Hoob would up and vanish. 

“Hey Web.”

“Oh, don’t you ‘hey Web’ me.” Webster snapped. “You know what you did.”

“Oh good, someone read their email,” Hoob said.

“Damn it, Hoob,” Webster said, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We went over this when we picked the digital cover. You know I didn’t want it to look like a goddamn monster movie. So what the hell happened?”

“We are trying to drum up ticket sales,” Hoob said.

“I don’t know if that’s the kind of people I want showing up at this thing,” Webster said, running his fingers through his hair.

“Well, I’ll settle for anyone showing up to this thing,” Hoob replied.

“That bad, huh?”

“Well, it’s not great. The east coast is better than the west, but I’d like to pack the house.” Hoob sounded very disappointed.

“I’d like to keep my integrity,” Webster replied, more than a little disappointed himself.

“Well, it doesn’t look like either of us are going to get what we want,” Hoob sighed.

“I’ll pick the least repelling option,” Webster said, kicking a rock across the pavement.

There was a long pause on the other end of the phone before Hoob spoke again. “Do I even want to ask about the novel?”

“It would be better if you didn’t,” Webster replied.

“Yeah, probably hard to get a lot done when you spend the whole day driving.”

Yeah, Webster thought. Let’s go with that.

“So how’s your little friend? Has he stolen the last of your things and made off into the night?”

“His name is Joe and no, he’s not stealing from me. Why is it so paralyzingly hard to believe that he might just want a ride? Does he have to have an ulterior motive?”

“Strangely protective, aren’t you?”

“Well Jesus, I’m just a little tired of you and Lip turning him into some type of monster.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were sleeping with him.”

A statement like that could not be allowed to hang in the air. Once it’s said, if it isn’t true, it should be combated against. Or laughed at. It should be rejected in some way and quickly. The problem was that Webster couldn’t think of a response. He literally had no response because when the hell had he become that obvious?

“Holy shit. You’re sleeping with him? Who are you and what the hell have you done with my friend?”

“Are you seriously going to judge me on this?”

“You have to admit this is very un-Webster like behavior. What happened to the guy in college that was against random hook ups?”

“At this point, I’m pretty sure it’s no longer a random hook up. I think it’s more along the lines of having sex on the first date.”

“Which is also something you never do.”

“It’s something I don’t do with Cara’s friends. Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been with anyone that your wife didn’t cherry pick for me?”

“Hey,” Hoob said, sounding a little defensive. “I’m all for you getting laid, that can only help you at this point. But what the hell are you doing with this guy? You have to realize that there is no future here. You’re going to be at Lip’s in, what, two days? And then he is going to find to find another ride to wherever the hell he’s going. That’s it, that’s all there is. You maybe have two days with this guy. What the hell are you doing getting emotionally invested in this guy? You are defending him to your best friend. Do you have any idea how crazy that is?”

“You know Hoob, you really have to pick a side here. On minute its new life experiences will help the novel. The next second you’re telling me I’m crazy.”

“I’m just trying to protect my friend,” Hoob said.

“I don’t need to be protected, I’m not a child.”

“Look, you don’t want my advice fine, I’m going to give it to you anyway. Dump him, drop him on the side of the road, and re-embrace your sanity.” 

“I’m not going to do that to him.”

“Oh Jesus,” Hoob swore.

“Look, I’m going to let you go so you can call Lip behind my back. I’m sure you two have lots to talk about so you’d better get to it.”

“Maybe he can make you see reason.”

“I don’t know,” Webster mused. “I really don’t think he’ll take your side in this.”

“How do you figure?”

“Well, Lip is the guy that went home with the guy he met for coffee and spent the rest of the semester slowly moving in with him. So he doesn’t really have the high ground here.”

“Something tells me that Joe isn’t going to have quite that kind of staying power.”

Webster doubted it too. Hoob was a healthy dose of realism. He and Joe had no future and Webster hadn’t needed Hoob to point that out. But as Webster watched Joe leave the hotel and pause to light a cigarette, his hands cupped around his lighter, he really couldn’t bring himself to care. It felt good, it was fun, and maybe that was enough. Not forever, but maybe enough for right now.

“I’ve got to hit the road, Hoob. I’ll text you when we stop for night.”

“Web-”

“I know you’re worried about me and I worry about me too sometimes. Just, if it’s a mistake, let me make it on my own.”

Hoob seemed to consider that before he spoke again. “Ok, let me know when you stop.”

Webster hung up the phone as Joe walked over to the car.

“Look at them again,” Webster said, holding out his phone to Joe. “Pick your least favorite and tell Hoob that’s the one I choose.”

Joe smiled. “Because whatever I don’t like will be the one you’d probably like?”

“Something like that,” Webster said as he walked over to the driver’s side. “Mostly I just don’t want to think about it anymore.”

It was amazing how many things in Webster’s life that statement could cover.

*~*

“Wow, you actually picked up this time,” Joe said as he laid down on the picnic table at the rest stop they’d stopped at. Webster had gone into the building claiming he needed Wi-Fi.

“I aim to please,” Grant said. “How’s the driving going?”

“Boring. It’s so straight and flat out here. I would kill for a curve, a hill, something to break this up a bit.”

“Webster still not letting you drive?”

“And then there’s that, I used to drive a compact car for a living,” Joe stressed the last word to make his point.

“And how is the professor?”

“Freaking out about his book tour,” Joe said. “It would be funny if I didn’t kinda feel bad for him.”

“Shit, you slept with him.”

“What?” Joe said, sitting up so fast that the table nearly turned over.

“He fucked him?” Joe could hear Tab’s voice in the background. But Joe ignored him.

“Are you saying I can’t feel bad for someone I’m not sleeping with?”

“No, but it sure as hell makes it easier for you.”

“Did he fuck him or not?”

“Are you going to be mortified if I put you on speaker phone?”

“You’re just going to tell him anyway.”

“Of course he’s going to tell me anyway,” Tab said, sounding a little indignant. “That’s what roommates do, we share good news. Was it magical?”

“Jesus,” Grant swore. “That isn’t really the point.”

“Can’t you just be happy for him?”

“No, because what he did was stupid. He took all the feelings he has yet to resolve and rather than deal with them, he dumped them on Webster. Which really isn’t fair, to make him take all that on.”

“Wow,” Tab said. “Does joy cause you actual pain?”

Joe didn’t respond because deep down he knew there was some truth to what Grant was saying. It wasn’t really that he thought that he was in love with Webster or anything like that. It was just that Joe had spent so much time trying to feeling nothing, that when the chance to feel something came up, he’d lunged at without thinking it through.

“What happens when they reach Albuquerque?” Grant asked, the conversation seemed to have gone on while Joe wasn’t paying attention.

“I don’t know,” Joe said and he knew that was his biggest problem. It wasn’t that he had forgotten or ignored the fact that this relationship had an expiration date. It was just at that moment in the elevator, he’d chosen not to care.

“See,” Grant said. “He didn’t think it through.” Grant didn’t sound pleased or smug at being right. He sounded resigned to what he seemed to know was coming. “You are going to replace one heartache with a completely different one.”

Joe was well aware that’s what he was doing and he hated Grant a little bit for saying it out loud. He was trying very hard to live in the present and Grant’s reasoning and logic were making it difficult. Trying to plan a future where there wasn’t one was what had gotten him into this mess. The not thinking about tomorrow had become his new way of coping. He was more than a little reluctant to abandon it.

“I know it was stupid,” Joe said, breaking into the tussle that was still going on, on the other end of the phone. “I don’t need anyone to tell me it was stupid.”

“I think you should get a new ride,” Grant said.

“What happened to him being the only part about this that you liked?”

“I know what I said, Joe, but that was before things got complicated. No, I think it might be better if maybe you moved on.”

“I don’t want to,” Joe said, trying to sound as firm as he was able.

“I know you don’t and I know you’re not going to. I just needed to hear myself say it out loud.”

“We’re going to try and make it to Oklahoma City today. That will get us a day’s drive from Albuquerque,” Joe said.

“Did you think about what I said?” Grant asked. “You know, the part about getting a direct flight?”

“I don’t want to put you guys out like that.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tab said. “I had a good month last month, I’ll swing it no problem. You don’t want the charity, think of it as a gift.”

Joe wanted to turn it down. Say he wouldn’t need it. Comfortable in the fact that when they reached Albuquerque, he would feel nothing. He’d be able to find another ride and never look back. He didn’t want to admit that he wouldn’t be able to do that. He just wasn’t sure now if he’d be able too. Somewhere along the way, he’d started caring about Webster’s problems as if they were his own. He couldn’t tell when that happened and he didn’t know how to make it stop.

“I’ll think about it,” Joe said and swore it sounded like someone breathed a sigh of relief on the other end of the phone.

“Just be careful, ok?” Grant said.

“Yeah, drive safe and all that shit,” Tab said. That was the moment Joe knew he was in trouble. Grant was always more realistic than optimistic. Tab was the complete opposite. There was no challenge that couldn’t be overcome. Tab always believed that somehow it would all work itself out. Hearing him now though, Joe could tell that some of Grant’s realism had crept in and taken up residence. Joe knew that the same thing had probably happened to him too.

“I will,” Joe said. “What’s the worst that could happen on a straight flat road?”

“It’s not the driving that worries me,” Grant replied.

Joe tried to brush that off as he said his goodbyes and hung up the phone. He wasn’t sure how he was going manage it until he heard Webster’s voice behind him.

“I got all the emails answered, we can finally get the fuck out of here.”

“Going to let me drive?” Joe asked as he hopped off the picnic table.

“You know, I think I can handle it,” Webster said.

“No one is saying you can’t. I’m just saying I’m going out of my mind with boredom.”

Webster shook his head and, much to Joe’s dismay, still walked down to the driver’s side of the car. Joe wanted a word with whoever told Webster this controlling nature of his was cute. Joe sighed loudly as he got in the passenger seat just so Webster would know this was so far from over.

*~*

“So these friends you are going to visit, how do you know them?” Joe asked as he lit a cigarette.

“I met Lip when I started working at Boston College,” Webster explained.

“Lip?” Joe interrupted.

“His last name is Lipton. He worked in IT and I’m not exactly the greatest at computers. So we saw a lot of each other. He moved with his boyfriend to Albuquerque this time, last year.”

“What was in Albuquerque?”

“Well, Ron, Lip’s boyfriend, got a job at a university down there so they relocated. Lip has a job teaching and doing IT at an elementary school down there. It’s a really good fit and he really likes it. Which is good because they really moved down there for him.”

“What?”

“Lip got pneumonia really bad when he was a kid, he could have died. Now every winter when cold season starts, Lip always gets sick, some respiratory thing that takes him longer to shake then it should. Well, the year before they moved, he got it really bad. Like a week in the hospital bad, lungs full of fluid bad. Ron did not deal with that well. He canceled all his classes for the week, or they got cancelled. He just didn’t show up for his first one Monday. He never left Lip alone. I think he scared everyone into letting him stay past visiting hours. That was the most emotional I’ve seen Ron. I didn’t think he could feel some of those emotions. So after that, Ron started looking for a job somewhere with drier winters and he found a job in Albuquerque. But Lip wouldn’t move just because of his own needs. Lip is the best as taking care of people and the worst at taking care of himself. So if Ron had told him the truth, Lip would have just shrugged it off. He’s fine, no need to make a fuss. So Ron lied, they moved, and last winter Lip didn’t get sick.”

“Ron sounds like a good guy,” Joe said.

Webster laughed because those were not the words he would have used. “No, Ron’s an asshole. To everyone but Lip. It’s like every good feeling, thought, or impulse he has, he saves for Lip. Lip gets all the goodness Ron can muster up and so there isn’t any left for the rest of us. And it doesn’t occur to Ron that there is anything wrong with that.”

“Still doesn’t sound like a bad guy.”

“No,” Webster reflected. “He’s not. He’s just not the easiest person to be friends with. But Lip is so wonderful that it makes up for the fact that his boyfriend is a grade A asshole.”

“So you all worked at Boston College?”

“Yeah, we did.”

“So who’s the better teacher?”

“I don’t think you can compare the way Ron teaches to the way I teach-”

“Sure you can,” Joe said, producing his phone from his backpack.

“And how do you purpose to do that?” Webster said, dreading where this was going.

“The very scientific scores found on ratemyprofessor.com,” Joe said. “It’s this website Grant used to look up all his teacher’s at the start of the year. It allows you to rate a professor after you’ve had them. The site then gives the teacher an average based on helpfulness, clarity, and easiness to give them a score. Students also enter their grades so you get an idea what most people get. Ahh, here you are-”

“I don’t want to know this,” Webster said.

“Why not?”

“Because I don’t want to know what my students think of me.”

“No, you don’t want to know if they like Ron more,” Joe said and the smugness in Joe’s voice made Webster want to punch him.

“Fine, fuck it. What are they saying about me?”

“Well, I did just read the phrase total nutcase,” Joe said.

“I hate you so much right now,” Webster replied.

“You put your tests on the overhead? Really? An overhead? You’re best friends with someone in IT and you still use an overhead?”

“I’m a literature professor. I make my living supporting the belief that the classics never die,” Webster replied.

“You give pop quizzes? No wonder you only got a 3.4.”

“Out of ten?” Webster knew he sounded surprised.

“No, out of five. You’ve got threes in helpfulness and clarity, but that two in easy is killing you. The average grade in your class is a C+,” Joe said. “What’s really hurting you is that your scores lately have been pretty bad. The further you go back, the better your reviews. What the fuck happened?”

Webster was pretty sure he knew the answer to that question. There were a lot of things in his life that had started to suffer since he’d started writing the novel. He was a little disappointed that his teaching was one of them.

“Want to see Ron’s?” Joe said, the tone of his voice saying he already knew the answer to that question.

“You make it sound like I can stop you,” Webster said.

“What department is he in?”

“History, Ronald Speirs.”

“Ahh, there he is. Damn, his score is higher than yours.”

“He never finds out about this,” Webster said, knowing he would hear about it until the end of time. “What did he get?”

“He got a 4.4. If you round his clarity score up, it’s a five. He got a four for helpfulness and a three for easy. I just read someone call him their favorite teacher of all time.”

“How the hell is he more helpful than I am? Until last year he didn’t even put a syllabus online.”

Joe laughed at something he read. “It says here if he spells something, it’s going to be on the test. That sounds strangely helpful.”

“So it’s all just glowing praise?”

“No, I guess his final is a bitch.”

Now it was Webster’s turn to laugh. “No, Ron’s final is the monster that rises up out of ocean and destroys Tokyo. It’s all essay, like his other tests, but it’s comprehensive. So anything he’s covered over the whole semester could be on there. I’ve seen it, it’s eight pages front and back.”

“How is his easy score still so high? That sounds like a nightmare.”

“Because you don’t have to take it. Your grade in his class is based on three tests and a book review which, depending on who you ask, he may or may not read. So he gives three tests during the year and, if you like your grade at the end of it, you’re done. The only reason you would have to take the final is because you did poorly the first time around. So if you are one of the poor souls that happens to, there is no way you get yourself out of it.”

“The comments about him being a hard case are starting to make sense.”

“His lecture style probably doesn’t help,” Webster said. “I’ve seen him teach a class once and I have to admit I’m little jealous he can pull this off. He comes in with just his coffee, sits down on the desk, and spins out a story that takes the entire ninety minutes. That’s no projector, Lip fights the good fight for powerpoints every year, but it never works. It’s maddening because I don’t think I can talk about anything the way Ron talks about the Roman Empire.”

“He wrote a book too, huh?”

Webster sighed. “It’s not a competition. Most professors have written a book because departments like to see original scholarship.” 

“So he wrote a book because he had to and you, a very serious writer, only write for the joy of the craft?”

Webster shook his head. “If you had been there for the writing of the book, you would know that yes, he did it just because he had to.”

“What’s it about?”

“The Emperor Augustus. Ron’s interest in history drops off dramatically after Rome falls.”

“Did you read it?”

“Yes I have. When your friend’s boyfriend writes a book, you buy it and read it. Even if you can’t really fake an interest in the Romans, you just read the book.”

“Even if you are a tiny bit jealous?”

“What, about your friends? Why don’t we talk about yours, so I can sit here and judge your relationships for a while?”

Joe laughed and he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray and rolled up the window. “There’s not a lot to tell. Grant and Tab are not that interesting. Grant sells booze and Tab sells cars.”

“And you drove a cab?”

“No, then I cut hair.” Something about the way Joe said that made him sound wistful.

“And then you stopped?”

“Couldn’t get the chair space in Boston, the rent was too damn high. And fuck if I wanted the headache of owning my own shop. Watching Grant open his store…yeah no, I want no part of that.”

“So are you going back to that when you get home?”

“My license expired, so I don’t know what I’m going to do about that. So it would easier to see if I can transfer my cab’s license.”

“Do you like doing that?”

“Do you like writing your novel?”

Webster sighed, deciding maybe silence would be golden for a little while.

*~*

Joe knew he went too far. The second the dig about the novel was out of his mouth, he knew that was a line and he shouldn’t have crossed it. The problem was his guard was up and Webster was getting dangerously close to one of his lines. So like he always did in those situations, he hit first to avoid the oncoming hit. The guilt he was feeling now rarely followed afterwards. Sure when he and Grant or Tab got into it, he’d feel bad. But in those cases, things were said on both sides and both parties just ended up brushing it off. No harm, no foul, back to friendship as usual. The problem was Webster had done nothing to deserve that, and that made Joe feels worse. Then to top it all off, Webster just shut down. 

There were no more questions thankfully, but there wasn’t anything else either. Since the first time Joe had gotten into this car, it had never been this oppressively quiet. Joe had noticed when they started this little trip that Webster didn’t have the radio on. It never bothered him because they’d have just ended up taking over it. And he was sure whatever music the professor listened to would probably be boring. Right now Joe didn’t care if he ended up listening to Mozart the whole way to Oklahoma, he just wanted something to fill the void.

Joe dug around in his backpack until he found the car adapter for his iPod. The thing was ancient, it still required that you find a dead station in order to use it. Joe had stolen it from Tab after Tab’s new car had the dock built in. It was fitting though because his iPod was nearly as old and would barely hold a charge on it’s own for more than a few hours. He pulled the car’s cigarette lighter out and pushed the adapter in. After monkeying around with the radio dials for a bit, he found a station. He plugged his iPod in and set it on shuffle, figuring he could defend anything that came out of the speakers. The song that was chosen was I’d Rather Go Blind by Etta James. Joe leaned back in his chair, trying to relax into the music.

“I don’t know what I was expecting, but this wasn’t it,” Webster said, shaking his head.

“There is nothing wrong with Etta James,” Joe said, rolling his shoulders slightly in an effort to relax.

“No, but she just seems a little subdued for you,” Webster said.

Joe shrugged his shoulders and resumed looking out the window as the song played before changing to A Real Hero by College.

“Quick, what movie is this from?” Joe asked.

Webster appeared to think about it for a moment before admitting, “I have no idea.”

“Drive?” And the second he said it he could see that recognition did not dawn on Webster. “Nothing? Really? I’m going to have to start making a list.”

“You do that,” Webster said, without taking his eyes off the road. 

“I can’t believe that you haven’t even read the book,” Joe groaned. “It creates an interesting relationship with the narrator because you hardly know anything about him. Hell, you never learn his name. Not that you really care because it doesn’t seem like something you need to know.”

The song changed to a Benny Goodman song and Webster turned his head to look at the stereo. And Joe couldn’t help but smile. “It takes a special type of person to survive my iPod on shuffle. It’s a little like Russian roulette.”

“I feel like I get a handle on it and then it goes somewhere I wasn’t expecting it too.”

“That is part of the fun. So what’s on here?” Joe said, picking up Webster’s phone and shaking it back and forth.

“Not a lot in the way of music,” Webster said.

“Ok, so fork over the iPod. You got it stashed in your overnight bag?” Joe said, reaching over the seat to get the bag.

“I don’t really listen to a lot of music,” Webster admitted and Joe could tell he was suddenly self-conscious about this fact.

Joe blinked rapidly for a few second because what? “What? How is that even possible?” The Wombats started dancing to Joy Division in the background.

“It’s just not one of my interests,” Webster said. Joe could tell he now felt really awkward about it.

“How? I mean, what about oxygen? Is that one of your interests?” Joe was really having a hard time processing this. What was that even like? What filled the background of Webster’s life? How do you ride on public transit with nothing in the background?

“There’s a big difference between music and oxygen,” Webster said.

“Not noticeably. So what, if I wasn’t here, you’d just drive in silence?” Joe’s mind had been blown and was running out the window at this point.

“I have some audiobooks on my phone.” Webster mumbled this as if he already knew he was going to get mocked for it.

“You must be joking,” Joe said, turning in his seat so he could face Webster. “So you were what, just going to drive and listen to a cast of voice actors read a book to you?”

Green Day spun the tale of an Extraordinary Girl from the speakers. 

“I prefer the integrity of a single reader.” It was truly amazing that Webster managed to be indignant about this.

“You’re an audiobook snob?”

“I’m discerning,” Webster argued. “Why, is that a crime? I’m sure you wouldn’t tolerate a cover of one of your favorite artists.”

“You can’t make a generalization like that,” Joe countered. “It depends on who and how. There are covers out there that I like better than the original. You can’t just say covers are bad and refuse to try any.”

“Well, I patently refuse to have more than one person reading to me at once.”

“And that makes you a snob,” Joe said firmly.

“If you say so,” Webster said.

Joe smirked and rearranged himself in his seat, comfortable in the knowledge that he had won this round and listened to Bastille play them down the highway.

*~*

“There’s a gas station at the next exit and I don’t care if you need gas or not,” Joe said. “I’m starting to lose feeling in my knees.”

“Is there food there?” “Webster asked as he changed lanes.

“Yeah, there’s a Subway,” Joe said, rubbing his hands across his face.

They were both starting to get tired. It’d been a long day of driving. That morning he’d been hell bent on closing the distance between him and Lip. Wanting to rip the band-aid off this whole thing and be done with it. Be done with it before he became any more invested than he already was. Put an end to all this foolishness while it would just be excruciatingly painful rather than debilitatingly so. Joe just seemed determined not to let him do that. Every time some distance started to form between them, Joe slid them back together, seamlessly closing the space without making it overtly obvious he was doing it. Webster might not have even noticed had he not been emotionally invested in the distance.

When Webster pulled into the pump, Joe’s door opened the second he came to a complete stop. “Christ,” he said as he got out of the car.

“You know, for a Jew, you spend a lot of time name dropping Jesus,” Webster said as he walked back to the car from the pump.

“So?” Joe said as he pulled his arm behind his head, trying to pop his shoulder. “For me it’s the most harmless form of blasphemy. I say ‘goddamn it’ in earshot of my mother and she looks at me like I struck her. ‘Jesus Christ’ just gets me this little annoyed look. It’s the ‘Oh Joe I wish you wouldn’t’ look.”

Webster shook his head as he rummaged around in his messenger bag for his wallet, he hated sitting on it the whole way.

“I keep meaning to ask you,” Joe said, walking around to the back of the car. “Why does your bag have a giant 5 on it?”

Webster smiled and smoothed out his bag, making it easier to see the number. “The purchase of this bag feeds five kids for a year. Hoob’s wife Cara got it for me for Christmas.”

“Is she one of those save the world one recycled water bottle at a time Boston hippies?”

“No, she just complains I’m hard to shop for, so I told her just give what she’d spend on me to a charity. I’m an adult with an income, if there’s something I want, I’ll buy it for myself.”

“So you’re one of those Boston hippies?”

“No…I mean…I’m realistic enough to know there’s very little I can do to change the world. Helping one kid, that I can do. I didn’t exactly have model parents growing up. They played favorites, my older brother was it and I wasn’t. But we didn’t want for anything. They may not have been great at affection, but we had money. That doesn’t fix everything, but it helps. I can’t imagine having indifferent parents and not having the means to get away from them. So I do what I can, when I can. I volunteer for mentoring programs during the school year. I give to food banks and go a little crazy at Christmas. I can’t imagine having a kid of my own, but I’d like to believe I might be able to make a small difference in the life of someone else’s. And I know it’s lame and a little conceited in a way. So you can commence with the mocking now.”

“No mocking,” Joe said, shaking his head.

“I’d expected a little,” Webster admitted, and he didn’t like the way it sounded when he did.

“Just shows you don’t know everything,” Joe replied, not cruelly, just conversationally. “You want to grab some dinner or what?”

“I guess it’s as good a place as any,” Webster said, frowning slightly. This driving from one side of the country to another was killing his taste buds.

“Good because I don’t want to get back in the car yet,” Joe said, twisting to pop his back.

Webster tried not to over analyze that statement. Tried not to believe that it meant anything more than that Webster’s car wasn’t exactly roomy. They ordered their sandwiches, a BMT for Joe and turkey for Webster. They ate in silence for a while and Webster tried to think of something to say to fill it. The only subjects that he could think of were probably off limits. The closer they got to stopping for the night, the more Webster started to wonder what the mood was going to be like when they got there. When they had driven into Indianapolis, the mood in the car had been electric. It had been clear what Joe had been doing. Today was different though, today was subdued. Today, Webster had no idea what was going on. But he knew enough to know he couldn’t ask. He’d either have to wait for Joe to make a move or risk one himself. He wasn’t sure he was that brave. Or that the action would be welcomed. Webster didn’t like to think that Joe might have just been blowing off steam.

“You call Lip yet and tell him we’ll be there tomorrow?”

Webster shook his head. After getting chewed out that morning by Hoob, he’d been avoiding inviting more judgment into this situation. He had enough going on in his head without engaging in the soul searching Lip would bring on. “I’ll call him in the morning. That still gives him, like, seven hours to prepare for our arrival.”

“You think you’ll let me drive the rest of the way?” Joe asked, gesturing across the table with the chip in his hand.

“If I let you drive, I’m going to end up asleep in the passenger seat,” Webster said.

“Might as well get some sleep while you can. Fuck knows I’m not going to let you get any at the hotel.”

Webster tried to salvage his dignity as he choked on his water. Judging by Joe’s laughter, he failed.


	5. Five

Joe stood in the hotel lobby by the elevators, his duffel at his feet and backpack still on his shoulder. He watched as the night girl flirted with him. It made him smile that Webster seemed completely indifferent to her affections. If she flipped her hair one more damn time though, Joe was going to have to go over there just on principle. She finally seemed to get the hint as she handed over the room keys. Joe glared at her when she helpfully mentioned that ‘if he needed anything’ she’d be right here. Joe sighed, he couldn’t help it. Webster remained uninterested, not bothered as he walked over to the elevator and Joe. When the doors opened, they piled in with Webster putting himself between Joe and the controls.

“Oh no you don’t,” he said as he pressed the button for the third floor.

“Aww, where’s your sense of adventure?” Joe asked, leaning into Webster and snaking his arm around Web’s waist. He slid his fingers under the hem of Web’s shirt and ghosted them over the skin he found there.

“This isn’t my kind of adventure,” Webster replied as he untangled himself from Joe’s grasp when the doors opened.

Joe didn’t even try to hide his groan of disappointment as he left the elevator. He followed Webster up the hall to their room, sighing dramatically as they went.

“No amount of sighing is going to help you get your way,” Webster said as he slid the key into door only to have it not work.

“You are hopeless,” Joe said, taking the key and getting the door open on the first try. He turned and grabbed the front of Webster’s shirt and hauled him into the room.

“What has gotten into you?” Webster asked as he worked himself out of Joe’s hold so he could drag his suitcase into the room.

Joe wasn’t really sure what had gotten into him, but he knew the source was the girl at the front desk. Joe had no right to make any kind of claim to Webster. Tomorrow, they would part company, Joe would go his way and Webster would stay in Albuquerque. There was no future after tomorrow. But that was tomorrow. Tonight he had more claim than the chick downstairs. Joe hauled Webster forward again and into a bruising kiss. Tomorrow, Webster would belong to someone else, but right now, he was Joe’s.

Joe maneuvered them back towards the beds, pulling Webster’s shirt off as they went. Joe’s backpack was discarded next to the bed, within easy reach. They tumbled onto the bed, a tangle of limbs, shoes discarded as they slid up towards the headboard. Joe pulled his own shirt off before Webster attached his mouth to Joe’s neck. Joe pushed against Webster’s chest to get him to stop. 

“It’s my turn,” Joe said. “I let you have your way last night.”

“And what’s your way?” Webster said, raking his teeth over his bottom lip.

“Slowly fucking you into this mattress,” Joe said, pushing his hips up into Webster’s.

“Shit,” Webster stuttered. “It’s been…”

“We’ve got nothing but time,” Joe said, running his fingers through Webster’s hair and pulling him into a kiss. This one was slower, the gentle slide of his lips over Web’s as if to prove his point that ‘I can go slow.’ They rolled over and Joe dug around inside his backpack before he found the lube and condoms. Joe leaned forward to kiss Webster again as he worked open his fly. Joe pushed his hand inside Webster’s boxers, stroking him slowly.

“Gonna open you up nice and slow,” Joe whispered in Web’s ear. He felt Webster rock up into his hand.

“You like it when I tell you what I’m going to do?” There was another hitch of Webster’s hips.  
Joe smirked. “Good to know,” he said before catching Webster’s earlobe in his teeth. He sucked on the skin at Webster’s collarbone while he worked Webster’s pants and boxers off. There would probably be mark there tomorrow and that was the point. Joe continued sucking and biting his way down Webster’s chest. When Joe reached his right nipple and as he sucked the bud into his mouth, he used just the edge of teeth and Webster moaned. The tension in Webster’s shoulders, however, was still there.

“You gotta relax, college boy,” Joe said, still stroking Webster in a slow rhythm. “It’s going to feel so good, but you gotta relax.”

Webster let out a shaky breath. “It wasn’t…” Webster hissed a breath through his teeth as Joe twisted his wrist. “…last time.”

Joe bit his lip and contemplated a homicide if he ever figured out who the fuck-stick was that had made this hurt Webster. Joe brought both his hands up to cup Webster’s face. “You trust me?” Joe asked as his nose slid along Webster’s.

Webster nodded. “Yeah, I trust you.”

“So let me make it good because I know I can make it good.”

Web nodded again.

Joe retrieved the lube from where it was resting next to Webster’s hip. He waited until Webster had closed his eyes and braced himself before he leaned forward and licked Webster’s dick from base to tip. Webster’s hips snapped upward. Joe pressed them back to the mattress before he took the head of Webster’s cock back in his mouth.

“Fuck,” Webster hissed.

Joe relaxed his throat and as he did so, he pressed a lube-slicked finger against Webster’s hole. Not pushing in, just teasing the muscle with soft gentle strokes. Joe hummed around Webster’s cock and Webster’s fingers gripped the bedspread underneath them. Joe took one of Webster’s wrists and guided his hand to his hair. When Webster combed his fingers though Joe’s hair, Joe worked his first finger in. Joe teased the head of Webster’s cock as he worked his finger around, getting Webster used to the feeling. When he hit Webster’s prostate, Webster pulled his hair. Joe rewarded Webster by taking him into the back of his throat and sliding in another finger. Webster whined and Joe was pleased to feel him push against his hand. Joe pulled off Webster’s cock with a pop.

“Told you I’d make it feel good,” Joe hissed into Webster’s ear as he spread his fingers apart inside Webster. Webster turned his head and kissed Joe hard, his teeth biting Joe’s lip. Joe pulled back and slicked up another finger before sliding it into Webster.

“Fuck, Joe,” Webster said, his leg coming up so his foot was flat against the bed, giving him the leverage to thrust harder into Joe’s hand.

“I got ya,” Joe said before he pressed a kiss to the inside of Webster’s thigh. Joe spread his fingers again. He watched as Webster’s mouth dropped open and he pressed his head further into the pillow. Joe managed to get his own jeans and boxers off one handed, a skill he’d practiced over the years. Joe retrieved a condom before he ripped it open with his teeth and rolled it on. He coated it with the lube from his fingers. As he lined himself up, he leaned forward to kiss Webster. He steadied himself with lube-sticky fingers against Webster’s hip. As their tongues fought for control, he slid slowly into Webster. Joe stroked his fingers through Webster’s hair. Once he bottomed out, he waited until Webster rocked his hips before Joe thrusted up to meet him. It was a slower rhythm than he’d planned when he’d thought about it this afternoon, but as Webster clutched at his arms and shoulders, he didn’t care. It was worth it to wring moans out of Webster, to hear his name panted breathlessly, and to watch Webster’s orgasm hit him like a freight train. ‘Mine,’ though he had the good sense not to say it out loud. ‘Mine.’ After that, it only took a couple more thrusts for Joe to find his own release. Joe rolled over to ditch the condom and felt Webster’s fingers tracing along his spine. Joe turned back around to see Webster’s chest heaving.

“Fuck,” Web swore.

“Enjoyed that did you?” Joe asked as he leaned in to kiss Webster again. Joe couldn’t help running his fingers though Webster’s sweat damp hair.

“So good,” Webster slurred.

“Told you it would be good,” Joe said.

As Joe laid down next to Webster, they tangled their legs together, bringing their bodies as close as they could while they traded kisses. Joe wondered if they woke their neighbors and if they did, he hoped they called the front desk.

*~*

Webster knew that he shouldn’t be calling Lip this morning. Not first thing anyway. Not before he got a chance to get the ‘I got laid’ out of his system. Webster had never quite learned how to mask the fact that he’d had good sex the night before. His friends always figured it out. The problem was that in eight hours or so, he’d be on Lip’s front porch. Webster signed and sat down in one of the hotel lobby’s chairs. Webster was about to leave a voicemail when he heard Lip on the other end of the phone.

“Yeah, boy. Sorry things are a little crazy around here this morning. It’s the first day of summer school.”

“Well, in about eight hours it’s going to get worse,” Webster said.

“Hey, you’re going to make it in today?”

“Yeah, I can’t imagine why we wouldn’t,” Webster said, rubbing the back of his neck.

“So Joe’s still with you?” Webster appreciated the way Lip asked the question. It wasn’t accusatory, it was just conversational.

“Yeah, he’ll probably have me drop him somewhere on the highway before I get to your house though.” As Webster verbalized that thought out loud, he felt something drop in his stomach. He stared into the room where breakfast was being served. He saw Joe sitting at a table in the corner, clicking away at the keys of Webster’s laptop to check his emails. Webster wasn’t actually sure he’d be able to do that, to drive away and watch Joe fade from his rearview mirror.

“Hey, go ahead and bring him by. We’ll grab some dinner. It’s the least we can do, he kept you from driving off the road.”

Webster knew his eyes widened because that was not the reaction that he had expected. He’d expected something similar to Hoob. Frantic worry followed by urging to dump him. Having to invite Joe over for dinner was not how he envisioned this conversation going.  
“Yeah…I’ll uh…throw that out there.”

“You ok, Web?” Lip asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Webster replied.

“A little separation anxiety setting in?”

“Shut up,” Webster sighed.

“It’s just that you’ve spent a couple of days with him, in very close quarters. It would be natural for you to feel weird about letting go of that. You know…even if you hadn’t started sleeping with him.”

Webster closed his eyes and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with two of his fingers.

“So I’m just a little concerned about what you are planning to do about that.”

“I don’t know,” Webster admitted because if he were going to say it out loud, Lip was probably the safest person to say it to.

“Well, you’ve got seven hours to figure it out. And for what it’s worth, you haven’t seemed happy with the trail of respectable girls Cara’s been throwing you way lately. Maybe it’s time to shake it up a bit?”

“There’s no way he’d be ok with that. The whole reason he’s hitchhiking in the first place is because some guy got him to move to Boston and then fucked him over. So now he’s moving home to San Francisco. And here I come along, offering a sequel.”

“Well, I hear San Francisco is nice. I mean, I’ve never been, but I hear good things.”

“Wow, I forgot how optimistic you can be when it comes to relationships,” Webster said, rubbing his fingers across the knee of his jeans.

“Someone’s gotta do it. You’re sitting there trying not to envision what he’s going to look like in your rearview mirror.”

“How do you-”

“Your pessimism is terribly predictable.”

“It’s not pessimism, it’s realism.” Webster watched as Joe got his things together.

“Call it what you will. When you say it, it’s the same damn thing.”

“If I invite him to dinner are you going to refrain from embarrassing the crap out me?”

“I’ll do my best, but I’ll make no guarantees about Ron,” Lip said.

“Jesus, what does he think of all this?”

“He thinks I’m meddling.” Lip sounded slightly frustrated.

“Can’t imagine where he got that idea from.” Webster smiled at the sound of Lip’s laughter on the other end of the phone.

Joe arrived in front of him, backpack on his shoulders and Web’s computer in his hands.

“Hey Lip, we’re going to hit the road.”

“Ok,” Lip replied. “Drive safe.”

“I will,” Webster said before he hung up the phone.

“Still not going to let me drive?” Joe asked.

“It’s the home stretch, I’d hate to cave now.” Webster said, taking back his laptop.

Joe sighed before he leaned in close to Webster and whispered, “I thought you trusted me?”

Webster swallowed hard. Only Joe could make that question sound dirty. “Just…it…can we go?”

“I’m not stopping you,” Joe said, but he made no effort to take a step back from where he was standing.

“God, I hate you so much right now,” Webster said, doing a side step around Joe so he could start walking out to the car.

“That’s not what you said last night,” Joe commented as he followed him out of the hotel. “Or in the shower this morning.”

“Could you keep your voice down?” Webster hissed.

“Why?” Joe questioned loudly, holding his arms out at his sides. “You are never going to see any of these people again.”

Yeah, Webster thought, that is the problem right now. After today, he won’t see any of these people again, Joe included.

“Can we just go? We’ve got a long day of driving ahead of us.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed and Webster could tell he knew something was up. Joe was always strangely perceptive when Webster didn’t want him to be.

“Fine,” he said, arms crossed tightly over his chest. “The sooner we get there, the sooner I can get home.” Joe brushed past him and walked over to the passenger side of the car. He pulled on the door handle to drive home that it was closed. Webster sighed as he hit the clicker. They sure had a long day ahead of them and it had nothing to do with the driving.

*~*

Joe rolled down the window as he lit his first cigarette of the day. He hadn’t said a word to Webster since they left the hotel and to be perfectly honest, he wasn’t planning on it. He wasn’t sure why he was pissed. It was just something about the way Webster had gotten flustered. They weren’t going to see any of those people again. What the hell did it matter if any of them knew that they were fucking? It’s not like Joe would have teased Web like that in front of people they knew. He was just having a little fun.

Joe groaned as he looked out the window and saw a road work ahead sign. Anything that made this trip longer was something Joe was not in favor of. He just want to get to Albuquerque, ditch whatever the fuck this was, and get back to his life.

As the construction got closer, Joe could see there was going to be a problem. In their infinite wisdom, the road crew had placed cement barriers on each side of the road, leaving no shoulder. So now there were just two lanes. It looked slightly nerve racking and would have been something Joe would have gone out of his way to avoid if he still had his cab. He could have gotten through it, Boston traffic was a special kind of hell so he’d seen worse. The problem was that Webster probably hadn’t and now that they were in it, there was no way for them to trade drivers. Joe could tell by the white knuckled way Webster was gripping the wheel that he saw the situation the same way.

“It’s going to be ok.” Joe said, because maybe Webster needed to hear it.

“There is no shoulder, a car right beside me, if I slow down I’ll end up next to a semi, and if we get into trouble there is nowhere for me to go. How the hell is that ok?”

“Because it can’t go on forever,” Joe said.

What it did do was go on for way longer than it needed too. And at one point Webster did end up right next to a semi and Joe even held his breath for that part. They made it through. After what felt like forever, the shoulder reappeared and Webster seemed to relax considerably. His shoulders were still tighter then Joe had ever seen them, all Joe’s hard work from the night before was lost.

Webster took the first exit off the highway he could find and pulled into the parking lot of a gas station. He pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car. He slammed the door so hard that the car shook. Joe got out and walked around to the back. Webster was leaning back against the car. His hands were shaking, causing the keys to clatter together.

“Hey, you did good,” Joe said, coming to stand in front of Webster. Joe’s fingers came up to stroke through the hair at the base of Webster’s neck.

“That was the scariest fucking thing…” Webster said before trailing off.

Joe pulled Webster forward and started kissing him. While he was tracing his tongue over Webster’s molars, he carefully worked the car keys free of Webster’s fingers.

When he pulled back, Webster said, “I am not having sex with you in this parking lot.”

“Of course you’re not,” Joe agreed. “I just wanted the car keys.” He held them up and Webster made to grab for them, but Joe was quicker and palmed them. “I think you are done driving for the day.”

Webster seemed ready to protest, but then he sighed. “You’re probably right,” he conceded.

Joe smiled. “Do you want anything?” He gestured to the gas station.

Webster shook his head.

“Do you want to get back in the car?”

“Yeah, considering we haven’t even made it an hour yet.” Webster shook his head and Joe could tell he was beating himself up.

“Hey, that was some scary shit. You did the best you could, we got through it alive, and maybe avoid this on your way back.”

“Jesus Christ,” Webster swore. “I hadn’t even thought about the fact that I was going to have to do that again.” He walked around and got in the passenger side. Joe sighed and got in after him.

“It’s weird as hell sitting in the passenger seat of my own car,” Webster said. “I don’t think I’ve ever done this before.”

Joe decided that statement wasn’t one he was meant to comment on. “Ok,” Joe said. “So where do these go?” Joe held up the keys.

Webster groaned and made to grab them again. Once again Joe was faster, mostly because he knew it was coming.

“I was kidding. Jesus,” Joe said as he put the keys in the ignition and started the car. “What part of ‘I used to do this for living’ don’t you understand?” Joe adjusted the seat and moved the mirrors around a bit, since he was kind of a perfectionist about that kind of thing.

“Sorry,” Webster mumbled as Joe pulled out of the parking lot and back onto the road.

Joe hadn’t really expected an apology, so in his surprise, he just kind of let it hang there.

“Learning to drive was a stressful experience,” Webster said, clearly feeling there was something he still needed to explain.

“In Boston? Yeah, it probably was,” Joe said. He decided not to mention that San Francisco hadn’t exactly been a cakewalk.

“I grew up in New York City,” Webster said. “I mean, I didn’t learn to drive there, my father taught me out in the Hamptons. But I’d be hard pressed to find a worse teacher.”

“My mom kept stomping on the floor on her side, like there was a brake over there,” Joe said shrugging.

“My father mostly just yelled a lot,” Webster said. “So I moved from one city mass transit to another and tried to drive as little as humanly possible. I still don’t know why I thought driving cross country was a good idea.”

“Well, up until this morning, it hadn’t been so bad,” Joe said as he changed lanes to pass a semi.

“Yeah,” Webster shook his head. “I still can’t imagine doing it for a living.”

“It’s not so bad,” Joe said. “The work is never the same, it keeps it interesting. And I don’t have my boss breathing down my neck all day.”

“I just can’t imagine you in an industry where you make tips,” Webster said.

Joe smiled. “I never said I made great ones.”

“They just didn’t appreciate your charming personality?”

“Fuck you,” Joe said, giving Webster a gentle whack on the shoulder. But Webster was smiling again and that was something. Joe knew that something meant he was fucked. He had seven hours to get his shit together and he was pretty sure that wouldn’t be enough time.

*~*

As Webster rode along while Joe drove, he had to admit that he probably should have let Joe take a shift driving before. It was a hell of a lot less stressful to ride along as Joe drove. They’d lapsed into silence a few miles after Joe started driving, so Webster had retrieved Joe’s Watchmen novel from the back seat. He had just gotten to Mars with Doctor Manhattan when Joe spoke again.

“So what’s this novel about? You know, the one you are avoiding like the plague?”

Webster sighed and closed the novel.

“Too far?” Joe asked.

“No, maybe it will help to talk about it. You’re right. I have been militantly avoiding thinking about this novel. I haven’t opened my laptop to work on it once since I left Boston. And sure, I could blame that on you because I haven’t exactly had a lot of free time when we get to a hotel.”

Joe’s answering smile was the picture of ‘Grandma what big teeth you have.’

“But that would be easy and cheap,” Webster continued. “Because we weren’t fucking in Buffalo and you know how much writing I got done there. And I could have traded off shifts and wrote while you drove. Instead, I made this trip twice as long by insisting I do it myself. Right now would be a perfect time to take a swing at writing. Instead I’m sitting here trying to figure out why no one seems to think that Doctor Manhattan and Laurie are creepy. She was for sixteen for Christ’s sakes.”

“There is very little about Laurie that isn’t creepy, but don’t change the subject. Why aren’t you writing?”

“Because I hate my writing, I loathe every word I put on paper. That’s the reason I’m not running off to a writer’s retreat, because I can’t imagine presenting and defending what I’m writing right now. Before I started this trip, I would sit down at home and fight my way through three pages or so. Then I would wake up the next morning and delete everything I’d written. I have written myself into a corner and I have no idea how to get myself out of it. I have honestly considered killing a character just to see if that will kick something off.”

“What’s it about?” Joe asked.

“It’s a period novel,” Webster replied.

“No, come on. It helps to talk about it. We’ve got six hours. Surely we can get something going. So what’s it about?”

“It’s set in the forties, it’s about the war. I set it in Europe,” Webster clarified.

“Aww, how very Hemingway of you,” Joe said, grinning.

“I wish, Jesus,” Webster shook his head.

“So what’s the problem?” Joe said. “Where’d you get stuck?”

“Well, it’s the whole process really. I’m learning I might not be cut out for fiction. You have to create the entire universe. That is a frightening prospect. Sure, I set it in a historical period so there are rules, but that doesn’t turn out to be all that helpful. Not to mention that you created the characters, their motivations, their lives and you are responsible for them. It’s like you went out and decided on a whim to have kids and now all of sudden their happiness is your responsibility. And it turns out that I’m not cut out for parenthood.”

“Ok, that was a lot more meta than you needed to be,” Joe said. “What was the last thing you did before it all went to shit?”

Webster sighed, he knew exactly what it was. He’d lost sleep over the decision, but he’d decided to do it. The source of conflict would be great. The emotional trauma it would inflict would change his lead character. “I killed my lead character’s best friend on the side of a road in Nuenen.”

“Jesus,” Joe swore. “You’re right, you would be a totally shit parent. Why the hell would you do that?”

“I thought it would be a good source of conflict-”

“You know, that may be the one thing of which they have enough of. They are in the middle of a war zone. Another army was actively trying to kill them. They have a world of horror waiting for them when they get to Germany. Maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s a little selfish to think your best friend is going to make it through with you, but you are the God in this universe and gods get to be selfish. So maybe acknowledge that the world sucks enough without losing your best friend in the process. So bring him back to life and see what happens, see if it doesn’t get easier to write. Maybe I’m wrong, maybe to advance the storyline he does need to die, but you gotta fuckin’ try it the other way before you make that decision.”

Webster paused and considered that for a moment.

“I’m just saying if you get to be God, why not be the merciful kind?”

“I didn’t think it was realistic,” Webster said.

“Probably not,” Joe admitted, shrugging his shoulders. “But fuck realism, this is fiction. You want to create anxiety or uncertainty, make it a close call. But...” Joe sighed and shook his head. “Don’t kill him. There will be enough death in that book without adding his to it too.”

Webster nodded, Joe had a point. Maybe everything didn’t have to be bleak and hopeless. Maybe there was room for one thing to go right.

“I’m going to consider that while I finish this,” Webster said, holding up the novel in his hands.

Joe smiled. “You should. You’ll get no argument from me about that. It will make your list shorter if you do.”

“You’re really going to make me a list?” Webster asked.

“Sure, if you’re actually going to work your way through it.”

“Yeah, I’ll do that.” Webster said. A list of books from Joe would give him a little piece of the man to carry around with him after they separated. Something to hang on to in the hopes that maybe somewhere, Joe was reading the same book too.

“Ok, remind me to do it before you drop me off.”

“I’m supposed to invite you to dinner,” Webster said. “Lip feels like they owe you for keeping me alive.”

Joe smiled. “Well who am I to turn down free food?”

Webster smiled and returned his attention to the novel in front of him, pleased that maybe he’d managed to buy a few more hours with Joe. It was borrowed time and Webster knew no matter what he did, they were much closer to ending now than they were to the beginning.


	6. Six

Joe didn’t know what he expected when he turned into the driveway of Webster’s friends. If he was honest, he probably expected something really fancy, because Webster struck him as the kind of person who would have fancy friends. Then he realized that since this was the home of two teachers, the ranch-style one story was probably about all they could afford. It looked homey even if it didn’t have a front yard, considering they were now in the middle of the freakin’ desert. When they pulled into the driveway, the only other car was a gold midsize car.  
They were just debating leaving Joe’s stuff in the car when the front door opened and a stocky man with thinning hair stepped out on to the porch.

“Hey boy,” he said, crossing the porch.

“Hey Lip,” Web said and walked over to hug his friend.

“You have a safe drive?”

“I don’t want to talk about Oklahoma City, it’s still too soon,” Webster said before turning to Joe. “Lip, this is Joe.”

“Nice to meet you, thanks for keeping an eye on this one. We were a little worried about him making it all the way by himself.” Lip held out his hand so Joe shook it.

“It was a full time job,” Joe said, smiling so maybe it carried as a joke.

Lip laughed. “I like him. You guys want to bring your stuff in? We’re going to meet Ron at a restaurant. He’s ending the Second Punic wars as we speak.”

“Sounds like a full evening,” Webster said. And Joe just nodded and picked up the milkcrate of books from the trunk. It was a good thing Webster was good in bed because this thing was freaking heavy.

“You don’t have bags, Joe?” Lip asked, sounding a little confused.

“Figured I’d just leave them in the car. Web’s going to drop me somewhere after dinner.” Joe would have shrugged, but the milkcrate was heavy and he didn’t want to lose his balance. 

“Bring your stuff in, we had a car get broken into down the street. I’ll get his books.” Joe carefully transferred the crate to Lip. “Christ, Web. You bring enough books?”

“I’m going to be here for a couple of months, Lip, and I didn’t want to spend all my free time reading Roman history,” Web said as he pulled open the front door.

“We have a few books on the Greeks,” Lip said as he followed. Joe followed behind the pair for lack of anything else to do.

His first thought on entering the house is that he could tell a professor lived here. There were three book cases in the living room stuffed with books going every direction imaginable. Joe doubted adding a fourth unit of shelves would make a noticeable difference in how crammed in everything looked.

“You think that’s bad,” Lip said, coming over to stand by him. “You haven’t seen the ones he carted over to his office. I thought we were going to need another moving van to get the bed down here.”

“Didn’t you end up leaving the mattress in Boston?” Webster asked.

“We needed a new one anyway,” Lip said with a shrug. Joe deliberately left his things by the door, brushing off Lip’s suggestion that he could keep his things in the back. He wasn’t staying, no need to pretend like he was. Lip drove them not too far to Mexican restaurant behind a mall. Despite the location, it didn’t have the fast food chain look that would be expected. Sitting out in front on the bench was a man with dark messy hair who stood up when he saw them. This must be Ron. Joe’s suspicions were confirmed when Lip reached up to kissed his cheek. Theirs was an easy love, Joe could tell. They were one of those rare couples that never fought and still loved each other after all these years. Joe would have hated them on principle if they weren’t friends of Web’s and buying him dinner. He would never end up with something like that, it just wasn’t in the cards.

“This is Joe,” Lip said, gesturing in his direction.

“Well at long last,” Ron said, extending his hand. Joe shook it as he had with Lip. “I figured you would have ditched him just to avoid the lectures on turn of the century American literature.”

“Well, it was him or an axe-wielding trucker, so I stuck it out,” Joe said, smiling. Jokes at Web’s expense where his favorite.

“I don’t know,” Ron said, giving Webster an appraising look. “I might have taken my chances with the trucker.”

Webster sighed before turning to Lip. “I thought you were going have a talk with him about trying to be funny.”

“Careful, he’s buying,” Lip said. “I’m at an elementary school now. His salary is what pays our bills.”

“How are you liking that?” Webster asked as they walked into the restaurant. “I can’t imagine having students that young.”

“You forget he got the nurturing gene,” Ron said as he held four fingers for the seating hostess. The place was surprisingly empty. But most places are on a random Tuesday.

“Oh yeah,” Webster said, making a face.

“I love the kids, the kids are great,” Lip said. “But I’d like to walk a couple of the teachers into oncoming traffic.” 

The hostess returned and led them over to a table as Lip continued his story. “I have this one teacher who is ticked because the monitor of the after school program uses her computer. Ok fine, not really something you get to complain about, but I can fix it. I’ll put in a laptop dock, so she can just take her whole computer with her.” They sit down around the table, Joe and Web on one side, and Joe tried not think about how that made them look. He focused instead on hating the teacher in Lip’s story.

“She was supposed let me know when she got in today. Mind you, we have to be there at nine right now. So at two, she comes down to the lab, saying she’s ready. In jeans, which is not ok, we have kids in the building. Because damn it, I had to wear a tie today.”

“I only have to wear those to staff meetings,” Webster said.

“Only if the chair is going to be there,” Ron said.

“I don’t think I own one,” Joe said.

“And I hate you all,” Lip said. “So I had cleared it with Harry, my principal, that I was getting off on time today so I just told her I’d do tomorrow and went home at three.”

“I’m so proud,” Ron said, smiling.

“Are they all like that?” Webster asked.

“Feeling left out?” Ron asked as he turned to Joe.

Joe shrugged. “Just playing catch up.”

“Don’t worry,” Ron said. “They’ll talk about school for a little bit longer and then Lip will start questioning Web’s life choices and then we,” Ron gestured at the two them, “can start drinking.”

“I like this plan,” Joe said with a smile.

As if on cue, Webster squawked indignantly. “What has Hoob been telling you?”

*~*

Webster stuck his head out of the guest bathroom that was connected to their room. Joe was spread out on the bed in a pair of boxers and a t-shirt with holes along the collar. His hair was still damp from his shower. His eyes were closed, but Webster was sure he wasn’t sleeping. As Webster stood there brushing his teeth, he’d never been more glad that over the years Lip seemed to have perfected being a mother hen. When they had gotten back from dinner, Joe had rounded the corner in the living room and pulled on his backpack. Lip, however, had decided that Joe could set out in the morning as it would be safer in the daylight. Like most people of reasonable intelligence when confronted with Lip worrying over them, Joe had folded and agreed to stay the night. Webster was glad he did, it gave him one more night before they’d have to separate. He rinsed his mouth out and left his toothbrush on the bathroom next to Joe’s before walking into the bedroom. Webster pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it in his suitcase.

Webster got into bed next to Joe and slid his hand under Joe’s shirt while he pressed open mouthed kisses to Joe’s neck.

“What are you doing?” Joe asked, turning his head so he was facing Webster.

“You really have to ask me that?” Webster asked before pulling Joe’s shirt up so he could press open mouthed kisses to Joe’s spine.

“This is ok but sex in an elevator was-”

Webster used just the edge of his teeth and Joe gasped.

“Fuck it,” Joe hissed as he turned over under Webster. His fingers twined in Webster’s hair, pulling him forward into a kiss. Webster returned his hands to under Joe’s shirt, Joe pulling back to pull his shirt over his head. Webster set his mouth on Joe’s collarbone, licking and biting the skin. He knew it was selfish to want to mark Joe. But he wanted to be memorable. He wanted Joe to think of him every time he caught sight of himself in a mirror. Every morning. Every night. He wanted to be memorable if only for a little while.

Webster kissed a trail across Joe’s chest, pausing to drag his teeth over Joe’s nipple. Joe’s blunt nails bit into Webster’s scalp. Webster moaned and pushed his head into Joe’s palm. Joe made a considering noise and pulled Webster’s hair this time.

“Fuck,” Webster hissed.

“Really?” Joe said, a smirk plastered on his face. He hooked a leg around Webster’s, using the leverage to flip them over. It concerned Webster that he should be worried that Joe’s weight pressing into him turned him on. He knew that it should concern him that in the course of two days, Joe had flipped the script when it came to what turns him on. Joe’s fingers moved through Webster’s hair as he reached in his backpack.

“This would be better for me if you told me what you like.” Joe’s fingers pulled slightly. “Instead of making me stumble onto them.” Joe leaned down and sucked on Webster’s collarbone, returning the favor. His teeth nipped at the skin of Webster’s shoulders. Joe’s nails danced along Webster’s ribcage before his mouth sealed over Webster’s nipple.

It had been a while since anyone had done this to Webster. Had taken their time, had seemed interested in mapping Webster’s body. Sex, sure they were interested in that. But the slow buildup to it, not so much. So when Joe’s mouth moved, Webster would gasp and arch up into Joe’s hands. He was touch-starved and he knew it. He wasn’t sure he liked that Joe probably knew it too.

Cool slick fingers began to open him up while Joe mouthed his hip bone. He moaned because he couldn’t help himself. He moaned because Joe was right, he could make this good. For the first time doing this with someone else, it was about him as much as it was about them. Joe was wrecking him for mediocre. If one thing came out of this trip, it was that he’ll never settle again.

Joe was guiding his leg around his waist and his mouth was back on Webster’s neck. “Remember,” Joe whispered. “Be quiet, unless you want the whole house to know how much you like it when I fuck you.”

Webster turned his head while Joe leaned up to kiss him and Webster bit Joe’s lip when he fucked into him. But it didn’t feel like just a fuck. Webster has had that before and it didn’t feel like this. Didn’t feel like it with Joe’s mouth on his neck and his fingers in his hair. They’re not pulling, they are doing something closer to petting. It felt like a fuck maybe the first time they did it, but that’s maybe mostly Webster’s fault. 

Mostly as their bodies slid together, it felt like Joe cared and Webster didn’t know what to do with that. So he pulled at Joe’s shoulders, trying to get him closer. Trying to pull as much of it in as he can. Because tomorrow it won’t be there.

Joe’s hand was on his dick and he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. Not with Joe whispering in his ear, that he has him and Webster can let go. He does and he knew Joe followed him after.

In his afterglow, Joe pressed kisses to some of the bruises, like an apology. “Fuck, it’s hot I can make you like this,” Joe said, fingers still in Webster’s hair and pressing open mouthed kisses against Webster’s neck. 

What ‘this’ was, Webster could only guess. Boneless? Sated? Happy? All apply, but which one Joe meant, Webster didn’t know.

Tomorrow he may end up doing or saying something completely regrettable to keep this feeling. He knew it won’t work. He knew Joe has heard it all, and he knew Joe was stubborn enough to leave. But he’ll say whatever he has to because this feeling is worth fighting for.

“You still with me, college boy?” Joe asked, nuzzling Webster’s neck.

He nodded because for the moment, he still was.

*~*

Joe woke up to sunlight streaming through the bedroom curtains. He got out of bed, took a quick shower, packed his things and tried not to think about the fact that Webster hadn’t been there when he woke up. He carried his things out into the living room where he could hear Lip and Web arguing in the kitchen.

“You’ve actually lost you mind,” Webster said.

“But you hate the city. You complain about the traffic, the school, and the weather. And how long do you think it’s going to be before Cara convinces Hoob that she doesn’t want the kids to go to school in the city? Tell me you can’t feel her warming to that conversation, and then you are all alone in a cold lonely city you barely tolerate.”

“The solution to that problem is not moving to a city your boyfriend picked at random,” Webster countered.

Joe deposited his bags outside the kitchen before making an attempt at sneaking into the kitchen in order to get coffee. He’d barely crossed the threshold when Webster noticed.

“Did we wake you?” he asked.

“No,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I just need coffee.”

“Well Lip…”

“Oh no,” Joe said, waving his hands in front of himself. “I want no part in this conversation.”

“Oh to have that option,” Ron said as he entered the kitchen. Lip leveled him with a glare as Ron set his briefcase on the counter. “I told you three days ago that he wasn’t going to agree to this.” Ron said as he walked over to Lip. “No, I have to go to work. I have to sack Carthage today. Maybe you should consider letting Web run his own life.”

Lip smiled as Ron kissed him on the cheek. “You know, just a thought. Or not,” he said when Lip’s expression didn’t noticeable change. “Joe, it’s been great having you here,” Ron said, turning in his direction. “Good luck with this and have a safe trip home.” He gestured back and forth between Lip and Web.

“Thanks,” Joe said dryly, toasting in Ron’s direction with his coffee cup.

Once Ron had left the room, Lip and Web resumed their stare down.

“I’m not going to buy a house in Albuquerque, so you can forget it.” Webster crossed his arms over his chest as if that would make him look more intimidating.

Lip just shook his head. “It’s a cute house, but I’ll have convince you of that later. I have to go install that laptop dock.”

Joe waited until Lip had left the room before he said something to Webster. “You might as well go see the house. What else are you going to do? Sit here and write your novel?”

Webster glared at him. “Fuck you.”

“We both know that’s not how you like it,” Joe said smugly, leaning against the counter. “Look, it will make Lip happy if you do it, that’s probably a pretty good reason to waste the afternoon.”

Webster sighed before yelling to Lip, “Fine, go ahead and call Kitty.”

Kitty turned out to be the wife of Lip’s principal and a real-estate agent. She also turned out to be brunette and pretty in a way that takes your breath away but doesn’t actually knock you on your ass. She was nice too and didn’t mention that it was more than a little weird that Joe tagged along. This saved Joe from actually having to think about how weird it was that he was crashing Webster’s showing. Lip’s presence here was completely understandable, Joe’s was just creepy.

Joe knew why he was there though. It was because he wanted to picture this. He was convinced that Lip would wear Webster down. Poor guy won’t stand a chance, so this house is as good as Webster’s. So with that in mind, Joe decided that he just wanted to see this place once. So he could picture it in his head, when he thought about this crazy stupid summer, when he thought about Web.

The house could best be described as cute. There really wasn’t any other way to describe it, and believe him, Joe tried. It looked like a house in New Mexico should look. Like a cement block dumped into the middle of a desert lot. Except for the small patch of grass in the front yard that the owner seemed hell bent on keeping. When Kitty informed them it had a sprinkler system, her tone was laced with judgment.

The inside matched the outside, everything was compact and Joe could tell that the last owner was a female college student whose parents wanted her to move home. Not because the house was feminine, but because no guy would have thought to paint only one of the living rooms walls hunter green. Not that it looked bad, Joe just had always thought of paint as an all or nothing deal. Off the living room was a dining room and off that, the kitchen. It was a nice kitchen, all the appliances seemed new, but Joe doubted it would get much use. Webster didn’t strike Joe as the kind of guy that cooks. Too buried in his books to learn such a practical skill.

Through the kitchen was the door to the two car garage, and the laundry room where four bras were hanging above the washer and dryer that have seen better days. Joe tried not to judge but personally, he’d have put his underwear away before strangers walked through his house. Even if he was pissed his parents were making him sell it. The fact that Kitty laughed when he said this made him smile and like her more.   
Also off the kitchen was a room that opened up onto the patio. It got great afternoon sunlight and the walls were painted a pale blue that felt relaxing.

“You could put your office back here,” Joe said and Lip smiled at him. Welcoming Joe into the conspiracy with a smile and nod. Webster just glared at him like he’d turned traitor and maybe he had.

The house needed a little work, the hall bathroom was a dark purple that made the room feel like it was closing in on you. The carpet in the other two bedrooms was dirty and probably too stained to clean. The power box was too small for normal life to function on. And the dirt patch that Kitty called the back yard needed serious help. Oh and Webster’s master bathroom was pink. And this made Joe laugh for some reason.

“I just can’t picture you somewhere with a pink bathroom,” Joe said, shaking his head.

“I don’t think I can see myself here at all,” Webster said.

I can, Joe thought. He could see Webster reading on the bed in the master bedroom, with its one gray wall. He could envision the dining room covered with Webster’s students’ papers. He could envision the entire setup of an office in the pale blue room in the back. He could see bookshelves around every corner, packed as tightly as they could. Seeing Webster in this space was not the problem. The problem was that Joe knew where he’d keep his comics here. Knew they’d have to get that power boxe fixed if they wanted to watch TV and do the laundry at the same time. He could see a life here and that was when Joe knew it was time to leave. There was no use fighting it, he was going to have to leave first thing in the morning. He had to leave or he might end up living here.

*~*

Webster sat on the guest bed reading, or at least he was trying to. Or pretending to. He couldn’t quite figure it out. There was a lot he couldn’t quite figure out right now. He couldn’t figure out why he’d gone over to look at that house. Maybe it was because it seemed to matter to Lip. He also had no idea how he’d let Kitty make ‘just couple of appointments,’ for a ‘couple of really cute houses’ for later in the afternoon. Maybe it was because Kitty was so nice. What troubled him most was the feeling he’d had when Joe had shouldered his duffel and declared it was probably time for him to hit the road. He knew this moment was coming when he’d picked up Joe at that rest stop all those days ago. So why did he feel like his chest had been kicked in?

Lip had swooped in and saved the day when he said it was too late in the afternoon for that. After all, it was practically time for dinner. Webster had watched as Joe kicked this around in his head. Webster had held his breath until Joe had agreed after Lip said he’d make tacos. Webster had been forbidden from helping in the kitchen so he’d sat on a stool pulled up to the island and tried to undo what he’d done to his novel.

He’d been surprised to find that Joe knew his way around the knife block and was actually able to help prepare vegetables while Lip browned hamburger meat and kept an eye on the shells. It had felt domestic in a way that should have been frightening, but was actually comforting. When Ron had gotten home, high on the conquest of Carthage, he hadn’t said anything about Joe’s continued presence. He just told Lip dinner smelled good and kissed him on the neck before heading to the fridge for a beer.

So now, as Joe brushed his teeth, Webster wondered what they were doing here and how long it could go on. How many more days could they keep this going? Pretending Joe wasn’t going to leave, that there wasn’t something waiting for him down the road in another state? Could they last the week? The month? What would be the point? Webster would have to go home eventually. He’d go back to his life, his book tour, and Joe would start his life anew. There was no future here, just a lot of dancing around hurt feelings. So why did neither of them seem capable of cutting the cord? 

Webster was just focusing enough to read a sentence when Joe sat down, straddling his legs and took the book from Webster’s hands, tossing it over his shoulder. 

“I was reading that,” Webster protested.

“No, you weren’t,” Joe said confidently. “Because when people read a book, they turn the pages.”

Webster dragged his bottom lip back over his bottom teeth. There wasn’t a lot he could say to argue against that. Joe leaned forward, his fingers tangling in Webster’s hair. Joe pulled him forward and kissed him. Webster’s lips moved under Joe’s almost out of habit.

Webster didn’t know what to think that Joe just seemed to assume that they were going to have sex. But Webster knew he wasn’t going to be the one that protested. Webster’s shirt was soon discarded and tossed in the same direction as the book. Joe shed his own and dropped it over the side of the bed. Webster bit the inside of Joe’s lip when Joe shifted his hips over Webster’s dick.

“Want to try it like this?” Joe asked, his hips rocking backwards again. “Make me do all the work?”

“You do it so well,” Webster hissed through clenched teeth. He had been aiming for sarcasm, but since he moaned the last word, it came out as more of a compliment. Webster pulled Joe in to kiss the smirk off his face. Getting naked while keeping their current positions took some doing and Joe almost ended up kneeing Webster in the ribs. Joe sucked a pair of bruises on them by way of apology as he retrieved the lube and condoms from night stand. Webster pulled Joe in for another kiss and used the distraction to get the lube out of Joe’s hand.

“Wouldn’t want you to have to do all the work,” Webster said into the skin of Joe’s neck.  
Joe answering laugh turned into a moan as Webster circled his finger around Joe’s hole. If he never got to do this again, Webster would treasure the way that Joe’s mouth dropped open when he inserted the first finger. He’d remember the way Joe rocked back as he spread his two fingers apart, Joe resting his head on Webster’s shoulder. As he worked the final finger in, he knew that he would remember this for days to come. The bite mark on his shoulder would insure it.

Joe tore the condom wrapper open. “Ready to let me take over?”

Webster removed his fingers from Joe, bringing them to clutch at Joe’s thighs as Joe slid the condom on. Joe’s eyes closed as he sank down onto Webster, his teeth worrying his bottom lip. Joe’s fingers clutched hard at Webster’s shoulder while his other hand reached behind Webster to grab the headboard. Joe gave an experimental roll of his hips, using his grip on the headboard for leverage, and Webster’s hips snapped up in answer. After that, their movements seemed choreographed. Joe worked his hips downward as Webster met him on the way back up. Joe’s forehead rested against Webster’s, his breath coming in sharp pants across Webster’s cheek. And Webster needed this. Needed his fingers in Joe’s hair. Needed Joe’s lips on his. Because these feelings were in short supply, soon they would not be available.

“Fuck, Web,” Joe gasped against Webster’s lips. “Harder.”

Webster couldn’t remember Joe saying his name like that before, and it spurred Webster into action. His hips snapped up hard and he took Joe’s cock in hand and set a rhythm with his thrusts. Joe repeated his nickname in a breathy whisper as he came. As Webster followed, he moaned Joe’s name into the skin of Joe’s shoulder.

It felt different too, the way they clung to each other afterward. The way neither of them moved at first. It made Webster sick to his stomach that it might feel like goodbye. 

*~*

Joe woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside of the window. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, trying to force the sleep to leave them. Webster was still asleep in bed next to him. His hair was tussled, he was breathing softly, and his mouth was open. Joe wanted to kiss him, morning breath be damned. Kiss him until he woke up, press him into the sheets, and see if college boy had a taste for morning sex. And that’s when Joe knew that it was time to go. He slid carefully out of bed, pausing beside it when Webster stirred a bit, shifting in the sheets.

Joe remembered the first time they did this. Waking up with Webster’s hand draped over his hip, his fingers gently moving against Joe’s hip. He remembered the displeased noise Webster had made when he’d gotten out of bed, and how the movement of someone in the room had woken him up. This time Webster slept, trusting in a way that made Joe’s heart clench.

Joe retrieved his clothes from the night before, carefully tossed by the side of the bed so they would be easy to find. He stuffed them into his duffel after pulling out something to wear today. He showered and got ready to face the day all while trying not to look in the mirror. He knew it was a beyond shitty thing to do, to slip out in the morning before the other person woke up. He knew it was low, he knew how it felt to be the one waking up in the bed. There were just some things that he knew he didn’t have the stomach for. Saying goodbye to Webster, standing there in front of him, he didn’t think he had it in him. And he was too much of a coward to find out.

He opened the bathroom door as quietly as he could. He paused for one last time to look at the sleeping form in bed with dark messy hair. He couldn’t handle these feelings now and in the end, it was just that simple. He shouldered his backpack, picked up his duffel, and slipped out of the bedroom. At the other end of the house, he could hear running water, the sounds of Ron and Lip getting up to start their day. He picked up Ron’s keys from the counter and headed for the front door. After locking it behind him, he fed the keys back through the mail slot and heard them hit the floor on the other side of the door. He adjusted his backpack on his shoulders before he took off walking down the street.

He’d paid attention out of habit every time they drove so he knew how to find the main street. As he turned off Lip and Ron’s street, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and called Grant. He didn’t expect his friend to pick up because it was pretty early in the morning. Grant, however, was too dependable to sleep with his ringer off.

“Hello?” Grant’s voice was still thick with sleep and the end of the word came out as yawn.

“Hey, it’s Joe,” Joe said because Grant probably hadn’t read his phone.

“Everything ok?” Grant sounded a little more awake and more worried.

“I’m in over my head,” Joe said.

“You leave the professor’s?”

“Yeah,” Joe said and saying it out loud made him feel like even more of an asshole and he didn’t think that was possible.

“You want to get a flight home?” Grant sounded hopeful. Joe figured he should have expected him too since Grant had been pushing air travel from the beginning.

“Yeah, I just want to be home,” Joe said as he made another turn, hoping no one had figured out he was missing yet and drove out to find him.

“Ok, let me wake Tab,” Grant said. On the other end of the phone, Joe could hear a door opening before he heard Grant say, “Tab, wake up. Joe needs a plane ticket and I need your wallet.”

Joe heard Tab mumble something before he heard a thud on the other end of the phone.

“You know if you cleaned your room this wouldn’t happen,” Grant said.

“Could you not start with me right now, Chuck? It’s a little too early for that shit. My wallet is still in my pants, which are in the living room.”

Joe could feel Grant counting to ten in order to avoid giving Tab the satisfaction of asking what his pants were doing there.

“I better find my phone so when my bank calls and goes what the fuck, I can answer,” Tab said.

“Hey Joe? I’m searching flights right now,” Grant said.

“Ok well, I can see the bus stop from here so I’ll figure out how to get to the airport,” Joe said, hoping a bus came along soon so Web wouldn’t find him waiting there.

If he even bothered to look.

Was it selfish to hope that he would?

“Tell him he needs to be looking for the number six bus,” Tab said.

“Did you hear-”

“Yeah,” Joe said, grateful for how fast his friends seemed to fly into crisis mode.

“If you take that,” Tab said. “You get off at the transportation center and catch the 50 to the airport.”

“Is there any way he can make it there by 8:10?” Grant asked.

“No, none,” Tab said.

“Well, damn it. There goes our one direct flight,” Grant said. “Ok, so there is a flight that leaves at one, on American. It has the one stop in LA. Which is really our best option unless you want to wait around until nine for US Airways?”

“Not unless it saves you a hell of a lot of money,” Joe said.

“It’s actually exactly the same price,” Grant said. Joe could hear click of keys on the other end of the phone. “Ok, Joe. I got you a ticket on the American flight and we will pick you up at the airport at five.”

“And then straight to In and Out,” Tab said.

Joe smiled and tried to make it sound like his spirits were lifted. He didn’t believe it. No one on the other end of the phone believed it, but they faked it. Everyone just went through the motions because there was a little bit of comfort to be found in that. He’d be home soon, and that would make things even better. Home, his friends, and a really greasy hamburger. Even if it didn’t work, it would be one hell of a band-aid.


	7. Seven

Webster groaned and buried his face into the pillow. He reached his arm out and felt only cold sheet. There were a number of excitable reasons why Joe wouldn’t be in bed next to him. For some reason though, Webster’s thoughts settled on the worst. Joe had left. Don’t ask him how he knew it. He wouldn’t be able to explain it. Something in him just knew Joe was gone. He got up, pulled yesterday’s clothes on, and one look around the room confirmed there was no duffel in sight. He made his way out to the kitchen to find Lip sitting at the island.

“Fuck,” Webster swore. “That fucking asshole.”

“Well, he’s a considerate asshole,” Lip said. “He locked up when he left and dropped Ron’s keys back through the mail slot.” 

“Is it really fuckin’ stupid that I want to go driving in the direction of California and see if he’s gotten a ride yet?”

“We can if you want,” Lip said. “But he was gone before we got up.”

“Somebody probably picked him up by now,” Webster said, dull resignation hitting him like a ton of bricks. “Fuck, what the hell was I thinking? I built this whole thing up in my head. I probably didn’t have an impact on him at all.”

“You don’t know that,” Lip said.

“Then what the fuck did he leave for?” Webster said, throwing his arms out beside him.

“I don’t know,” Lip said. “But just because he ended up disappointing you, doesn’t mean he’s the bad guy.”

“How the hell are you on his side?” Webster said, suddenly really angry with Lip.

“If I sit here and tell you sneaking out before the other person wakes up is asshole thing to do, is that actually going to make you feel better?” Lip asked. “No, it’s not because you already know that. And that’s not why you are pissed.”

“You know what’s going on in my head?” Webster challenged.

“Yeah,” Lip said casually. “It’s not the way he did it, it’s that he did it at all. If you had your way, Joe was going to spend the summer here. And what the hell were you doing? He wasn’t your boyfriend. There was no commitment to speak of here. You were his ride.” Lip emphasized every word of that sentence. “You stopped being that the second you hit our driveway. What did you expect him to do? Play house with you all summer and follow you back to Boston? Web, you picked up a person, not a puppy.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Webster countered.

“Then start acting like it,” Lip said. “You don’t get to ask him to sit around here all summer while you make up your mind.”

Webster stared at his bare feet on the kitchen floor.

“And if you already made it up, maybe it would have been a good idea to have talked to him about it,” Lip said.

“He knew,” Webster said. “That’s why he left.” Webster shook his head. It was unfair to be mad. Lip was right, what did he really expect? Joe was coming out of something serious. Everything Webster was offering most likely seemed like a bad idea. “I am an idiot.”

“I have to go to work,” Lip said, giving Webster’s shoulder a squeeze. “My advice is put it in the novel. Take all of this and use it for something constructive. Try not to mope around my living room all day.”

“Ok.” Webster nodded, noticing that Lip didn’t look quite convinced. “You’re probably right, besides that novel is so fucked it could not get any worse.”

“That’s not really the spirit I was looking for,” Lip said.

“Yeah well, I’m going to need a couple of hours before I get to the glass half empty phase,” Webster said.

Lip gave his shoulder another squeeze before gathering his things and leaving for work. When he was safely out of the driveway, Webster headed back to the guest bedroom. Some days were just too much to face. When he got there, he noticed that his copy of the remix was sitting on top of his suitcase. He hadn’t seen that book since he let Joe borrow it that night in Buffalo. Inside, being used as a bookmark, was one of Webster’s old gas receipts. He set the book down on top of the suitcase, preserving Joe’s space so he could read what Joe had written on the back. In Joe’s neat compact writing was a list of books he’d said he’d make. Webster had thought he was joking, apparently Joe had been serious.

Comics to Read

Watchmen  
V for Vendetta  
Batman: Year One  
Batman: The Killing Joke  
Justice League Vol 1: Origin  
Mad Love  
Preludes and Knock Knock Jokes  
Suicide Squad Vol 1.  
Drive

Drive had clearly been added to the list in a hurry, as an afterthought, and Mad Love had been underlined twice. Webster didn’t know why but his first instinct wasn’t just to throw the list away. Joe was gone, he’d have no idea whether Webster read the list or not. That’s what made Webster’s first instinct crazy. It had been to see if there was a comic book store nearby. This list would give him something to read when he came up for air from his novel. They were nothing like his own tastes and would get him out of his own head. And they were a little bit of Joe that he could hold on to for just a little bit longer. He could let go gradually, rather than all at once.

He retrieved his phone from the nightstand and found a comic book store three miles from Lip’s house. Webster shook his head. Had Joe known, they’d have already made a trip. He figured he’d see what they had, maybe he could make a dent in the list. Order what they didn’t have online. Come back and work on the novel until Lip got back from work. Power through dinner without acting like he’d had his heart ripped out of his chest. Then read about super heroes until he fell asleep. It felt good to have a goal, something to keep him busy. That rhythm might get him through the summer.

Webster put the list and his phone down on the night stand. If he was going out in public, he’d need a shower.

*~*

Joe hadn’t realized how much he’d missed San Francisco until he saw the city appear outside the window of the plane. He missed this city, his city. He’d grown up here. Learned how to drive here. Met his friends here. Kissed his first boy here. Made his life here. And he’d resented being boxed into leaving here. And resentment probably wasn’t the best emotion to be carrying around in a relationship. He made his mistakes sure, but there was plenty of blame to go around.

The point was that he’d wanted to come home since the moment he’d left. That didn’t change the fact that his chest felt tight and he hated himself for just disappearing on Webster. Even seeing Grant and Tab sitting at baggage claim didn’t make the feeling go away, but it did help a little bit.

“The prodigal son has returned,” Tab said, walking towards Joe and clapping him on the shoulder.

“Jesus Christ, you scared the crap out of me,” Grant said, pulling him into a hug when Tab moved aside.

“Sorry, mom,” Joe said when Grant had turned him loose.

“You little shit,” Grant said, but his smile gave him away. “Let’s just get your fuckin’ bag.”

“Good flight?” Tab asked, knocking his shoulder into Joe’s as they walked towards the baggage claim.

“Yeah, sure,” Joe said with a shrug.

“It’s good to have you home,” Tab said, throwing his arm around Joe’s shoulder and guiding him towards the baggage claim. “You know, even if you aren’t sure you want to be here yet.”

“Tab,” Grant said, turning around to glare at Tab.

“I know we said we were going to wait until we got to the In and Out to grill him, but it was going to be weird the whole way there.” Tab removed his arm from Joe’s shoulder and shrugged. “I would like to get the weirdness out of the way so I can enjoy my burger.”

Grant shook his head.

“Wow and here I thought maybe you guys hadn’t spent the whole five hours talking about me,” Joe said.

“We didn’t,” Tab said. “It really only was like three, Grant had errands to run for the store.”

“Oh Jesus,” Joe said with a sigh as he walked past the two of them to where he hoped his bag would be arriving soon.

“Oh, don’t act like we were unreasonable to worry about you,” Grant said, trailing after him.

“Can we not do this in the middle of the airport?” Joe said through gritted teeth.

“You’re not getting out of this,” Grant said, pointing at Joe. “This is not going to be one of those things that you never talk about and try to ignore because last time-”

“You know, I’m pretty sure I remember what happened last time,” Joe said, cutting Grant off.

“People are staring,” Tab hissed.

Grant’s eyes narrowed and Joe could tell he wasn’t done, but at least he’d stopped talking. The three of them watched as the bags came into view. Joe didn’t need a reminder of what happened the last time he had kept his feelings to himself in an effort to avoid things that were unpleasant. Finally his duffel came into view and Joe walked over to retrieve it, hoisting it on to his shoulder. The three of them walked out to Tab’s car in silence and then the second the doors closed, Grant spoke.

“Ok, so about the professor-”

“Oh god,” Joe groaned. “I get it. It was stupid. I let my libido do my thinking for me. I wasn’t even completely over one disaster before I fell head long into the next one. I get that it was a bad idea to fuck him. I don’t need to hear it out loud to know that.”

“Joe-”

Joe cut back in before Grant could even get started. “And I know that you all knew that we would end up back here the last time you put me on a plane. So if we could just get food and go home that would be great.”

Tab backed the car out of the spot before anyone spoke again.

“We didn’t know that, Joe,” Tab said.

“What about you?” Joe said, leaning over so he could see Grant’s profile in the front seat.

“I wanted to be wrong,” Grant said.

“Jesus,” Joe said, dragging a hand across his face.

“You guys were borderline toxic sometimes before you left,” Grant said. “Moving halfway across the country was not going to help that situation. Especially under the circumstances.”

“So at no point did you think it might be a good idea to tell me that?” Joe knew that it wasn’t fair to yell at Grant, but he honestly didn’t think he could help it at this point.

“You wouldn’t have listened to me if I had.” Grant raised his voice right back.

Tab whistled and both Grant and Joe winced. “Both of you shut up for a second. There is no good bringing up that past asshole. Moving to Boston in hindsight was a little reckless, ok, everyone is clear on that. Going twenty rounds over it isn’t going to help anyone. What we really need to worry about is what to do about the professor because that is still reckless and ongoing.” 

“No, it’s not,” Joe said, shaking his head and looking out the window. “It’s a clean break. Other than knowing that I was heading here, he doesn’t have any way of getting ahold of me. It’s a pretty big city, I don’t envision him showing up on my doorstep anytime soon. So I learned my lesson, no more assholes that don’t live in the same zip code.”

“You don’t know that Webster was an asshole,” Grant said, without turning around to look at Joe.

“You don’t know that he wasn’t,” Joe snapped.

“That’s true,” Grant said. “You would have had to stick around to find out.”

“Fuck you,” Joe snapped.

“You were happy when you called to check in,” Grant said. “It’s pretty obvious what’s turned you into a disagreeable asshole over the course of the day.”

Joe didn’t know how to respond to that. He just crossed his arms over his chest and watched his city pass by as they drove.

*~*

For the first time in his life, David Webster was a home owner. He’d never considered being one of them. He’d been calling the super for home repairs since he was old enough to take the subway home. He figured he’d probably keep doing that until he died. Two weeks after Joe left, Webster had called Kitty about making an offer on the house. He’d even managed not to have some obvious emotional reaction over the phone when she asked if he and his boyfriend were making the offer together. But he hadn’t missed the disappointment in her voice after he’d told her he didn’t have a boyfriend.

He managed to find a job, starting after the book tour. He would be teaching British literature at a community college. Not his first choice, but he blew the dust off his Jane Austen and tried to make the best of it. On the bright side, he got Keats and Milton, so he figured he could suffer through Mr. Darcy.

Hoob had thought he was crazy. Cara had taken his side though, declaring the house too cute for words. Armed with Webster’s credit card, she’d hired a company to pack his apartment up and drive his belongings across the country. Webster didn’t look at his statement to see how much that had cost him.

So forty days after he lost his damn mind, he closed on his new house. Kitty had brought over a jar of homemade salsa and a coupon book. Ron and Lip came over with steaks, they grilled them with corn on the cob, and Webster and Lip unpacked his kitchen.

No one commented on the fact that Webster had moved his desk into the pale blue room, with good natural light off the kitchen. Webster was grateful.

The first night in his new house, it rained. Webster was surprised he didn’t know that it did that in New Mexico. He stayed up and listened to the rain hitting his house while he worked on his novel. He’d surfaced in the afternoon and had gone out into his yard and heard crying. He found a kitten in his storm drain and called Kitty to ask if she knew a good vet. The kitten was gray with black stripes and she would curl into Webster’s chest when he held her. He’d never been an animal person, but Webster figured what was one more cliché at this point. Thirty minutes later, the kitten was sitting on the receptionist’s counter batting at a pen.

She had been pronounced relatively healthy for a kitten that had spent the night in the rain. She was given an antibiotic shot and follow up appointment. And just like that, Webster had a roommate. One trip to a pet store later, she had a litter box, litter, food bowl, water bowl, kitten chow, and package of brightly colored mice. She favored the pink one, though the green one was a strong second. She also took to the litter box like a savant and Webster felt strangely proud of her. He made her a bed out of a bath towel and a shoe box, but she preferred the other half of his bed. Webster figured someone might as well use it.

When asked for her name, Webster named her Quinn, and deliberately did not think about why. He was doing that a lot lately, deliberately not thinking about things. 

Like why he bought a house in Albuquerque, New Mexico in the first place.

He told Lip he bought the house because he hated the city.

He told Hoob it was because New Mexico was good for writing.

He told Kitty the truth. She had patted his shoulder and told him that they could probably get the seller to pay part of his closing costs.

He told her that try as he might, and he’d tried a lot, he could not envision Joe in his apartment in Boston. He could see him here though, had seen him here. Had watched as Joe walked through this house, suggested repairs, and laughed at the pink bathroom. He knew where he’d put Joe’s comics in this house. Could see Joe watching TV on his sofa, while Webster worked on his novel. Joe would tell him when his ideas were shitty, and Webster would pretend to be offended before changing the story. Just like he was with the current novel. He could see Joe cooking in the kitchen while Webster stayed out of his way. Could see Joe reading a comic in bed while Webster brushed his teeth.

The real reason he bought the house was because Joe had put Boston in his rearview. There was probably not a force on heaven and earth that could make Joe move back there.  
Albuquerque was neutral, so maybe he’d be more willing. Doubtful, but at least it was closer to San Francisco. So while he couldn’t see a life with Joe in Boston, he could hold onto hope about one in Albuquerque.

The only problem being of course that Webster was saving a space in his life for someone that didn’t even know it existed. He moved across the country, purchased a stack of graphic novels, named his cat after a villain, and Joe had no idea. And there was no way for Webster to tell him. Or Webster thought until one day when he had to sign back into his email and noticed that his email was no longer the one that appeared below the box. He frowned a moment before remembering that Joe had used his computer while they were on the road.

It would be creepy in a stalker way to email Joe.

It would be.

Webster knew it.

And he let this fact bother him for about thirty seconds before he wrote Joe’s email down on a post-it note on his desk.

“I’m going crazy,” he told Quinn as she jumped up onto his desk.

She seemed to take this news in stride, curling up on top of the outline for Webster’s novel.

“Fuck it,” Webster said, signing in to his email and opening a blank message. He’d bought a house in a strange city. Quit his job. Moved across the country. Adopted a cat. In the grand scheme of things, what was one more email?

*~*

Joe sat on the stairs of the fire escape, watching the end of his cigarette burn down and blowing smoke rings into the night. There was a growing pile of smoldering butts in the saucer on the window sill next to a bottle of vodka.

“You know, Grant is going to skin you alive if he sees you using one of the good dishes as an ashtray,” Tab said as he climbed out of the window onto the fire escape.

“He’d have to come back from Chris’ first,” Joe said as he flicked ash of into the night before taking a drag.

“Someone is bitter and resentful,” Tab said as he sat down on the window sill.

“Am not,” Joe said, taking another drag of his cigarette. And he really wasn’t. Since he’d gotten home and met Pat Christenson, Joe had thought nothing but good things. It was nice to see Grant with someone that made him smile. Joe figured Grant could probably do better, but Joe had seen him do worse so maybe striking for the middle wasn’t so bad.

“Well, something’s got you all surlier than usual,” Tab said before he took a pull of the vodka.  
Joe held the cigarette between his lips, dug his phone out of his pocket, and unlocked the screen before handing it over to Tab.

Tab looked mildly confused, but he took the phone anyway. He started to read the email that Joe had pulled up on the screen. Joe watched as Tab’s eyebrows rose, the confusion clearing and recognition dawning.

“You didn’t tell me he had your email address,” Tab said, looking up.

“Forgot I borrowed his computer,” Joe said before he took the vodka out of Tab’s slack grip.

“You show this to Grant?” Tab said, holding the phone towards Joe.

“He hasn’t been home. I got it this afternoon after work,” Joe said with a shrug.

Tab took out his own from his pocket while he scrolled through the email on Joe’s. “Hey, you need to come home…the professor is emailing Joe...he named his cat Quinn…you do that. They’ll be right over,” Tab said, putting his phone down on the window sill. “You going to respond?”

“And say what?” Joe said.

“I don’t know. I didn’t fuck him,” Tab said.

Joe decided not to grace that with a response as he snuffed out his cigarette on the plate. Fuck Web, his email, the god damn house and the fuckin’ cat. He’d been doing so well. He’d gotten his license renewed, found chair space, was working up a few regular clients that weren’t his friends beforehand. Joe had even let Tab talk him into going out a few nights. He’d even cut back on his smoking…well, until tonight. So fuck Web for that too.

He was just lighting another cigarette when he heard the apartment door open. Grant didn’t even bother calling out for them. He just appeared in the window and crawled out onto the fire escape with Chris behind him.

“How bad is it?” Grant said, taking Joe’s phone from Tab.

“He’s an asshole,” Joe said, sliding over so Grant could sit next to him on the stairs. Chris took a seat on the landing, leaning back against the railing.

“We knew that already,” Grant said as he moved his thumb over the screen of Joe’s phone. Joe watched Grant and every once in a while he’d make an annoyed noise. “So wait-”

“Let it make it all the way around,” Joe said, taking the phone from Grant and handing it over to Chris. “Go ahead, don’t pretend he hasn’t kept you up to speed.”

Chris shook his head and took the phone. “He’s worried about you.”

“I know. Only two years older than me and he thinks he’s my mother,” Joe said, leaning his shoulder into Grant’s.

Grant smiled and shook his head. “Give me that,” he said, taking the bottle of vodka from Joe. He took a pull before looking at the label. “Did you get this from us?”

“Yeah, the sale price was what clinched it for me. That and the fact that it was about three feet inside the door,” Joe said.

“How does he see this playing out?” Chris asked. “Like what, you are just going to get on a plane and fly back to Albuquerque?”

Joe shrugged.

“I want to respond ‘Dear Fuckface, he’s ours now’,” Tab said, standing up and taking the bottle from Grant.

“Yeah and we just aren’t going to hand him over to just anybody,” Grant said, giving Joe’s shoulder a squeeze.

“Sincerely Apartment 14103,” Chris said.

“Fuck it, let’s write it,” Tab said, turning in Chris’ direction since he still had Joe’s phone.

“Let’s not,” Grant said, shaking his head.

“The last thing I need is his getting our apartment number,” Joe said, taking a drag of the cigarette.

“Are you going to write him back?” Grant asked. 

“I don’t know,” Joe said. “Probably not a good idea since my first reaction to reading that was to get bombed and burn a new hole in my lungs.”

“Sleep on it,” Chris said, handing Joe back his phone. “If in the morning you are still at ‘Dear Fuckface’ maybe let it ride.”

Joe nodded. “I can see why you keep him around.”

Grant smiled. “The practical wisdom was a selling point.”

“He did name a cat after your girl,” Tab said, pointing the neck of the bottle in Joe’s direction.

“He sure did,” Joe said, watching his cigarette.

When he’d read the email the first time, that was the part had stood out to him.

Not buying the house. Lip was going sell Web on that. He could tell that Lip could talk someone into something in a way that made them think it was their idea all along.

Not turning the room off the kitchen into his office. It was the only logical choice, the bedrooms were too small.

No, it had been the cat.

I found a kitten the first night here. She’d gotten herself stuck out in the rain too. I named her Quinn, I’d figured you’d approve.

Tab was right. Web had named the cat after Joe’s girl. That meant something and Web knew it.

Joe was pulled out of his thoughts when Grant noticed his ashtray.

“Jesus, Joe. We eat off those damn plates!”

When Joe looked up, he made eye contact with Tab. There was laughter dancing in Tab’s eyes and Joe couldn’t help it, he laughed. Tab followed suit and it felt good. Joe had decisions to make. He’d have to respond to that email, at least in his own head. For now though, it felt good to sit on the fire escape, pass around a bottle of vodka and laugh.


	8. Eight

It was hard not to think of Kitty’s barbeque as a last meal. The next morning, he was getting a cab to the airport and Lip was coming over to get Quinn. She was going to stay with them, Ron had flatly refused to let her sleep on the bed. Webster gives her a week, she should have Ron worn down by the time Webster hit New Orleans. She’d already worked her magic on Lip who had been outraged when Webster said he was going to board her. Webster hadn’t liked the idea, he just didn’t really have a choice.

And that about summed up his feelings on the tour. He was boxed into it now and there was no way out. He had twenty stops, and by end of it, he was pretty sure he’d be willing to walk into oncoming traffic. The one he dreaded the most was the Saturday that he was going to be in San Francisco. He hadn’t told Joe that in his email. In fact, he was hoping to get out of San Francisco without seeing Joe. Or anything that reminded him of Joe.

San Francisco was not a city to see the sights and dine out. San Francisco was going to be hiding in the hotel, room service, and getting the hell out of there the next morning. While Webster didn’t have a strong reaction to Oregon when he saw the seclude the first time, it was just another stop on the tour from hell. It now looked like a safe haven to run to.

“I still can’t believe you are going to be in the same city as lover boy and you aren’t even going to tell him,” Kitty said, gesturing at Webster with the end of her plastic fork.

“Joe,” Webster said. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to take this lecture seriously if you call him ‘lover boy’.”

“Kitty, I thought we decided we weren’t going to lecture him on this,” Harry called from where he and Ron were standing by the grill. Webster was genuinely mystified by the friendship between the two men, since they seemed to have nothing in common. At the same time, it was nice that Ron had a friend. Webster hadn’t known him to have too many of those so the novelty made it special. 

“I decided no such thing,” Kitty said.

Next to him at the picnic table, Lip gave a snort of laughter. Webster glared at him. It figured he would take Kitty’s side on this.

“Look, one unanswered email is enough humiliation for one lifetime, thank you,” Webster said.  
“The last thing I want is to actually run into him when he has home court advantage.”

“So you are just going to slip out of there like a thief in the night? I hope you end up in the back of his cab.”

“Oh Jesus, please do not put that out into the universe. Besides, Hoob’s gotten me a driver,” Webster said.

“Chicken,” Kitty said.

“Yep that’s me, because what will cap this tour from hell off will be running into a guy that is pretty much my ex.”

“You can’t really count the email as trying though,” Lip said. “That’s like throwing this grand gesture at him that he didn’t ask for and, I’m pretty sure, didn’t want.”

“It was a lot all at once,” Kitty agreed.

“Is anyone here going to take my side in this?” Webster demanded, only to get silence in return. He turned around to glare at Harry and Ron. “I hate both of you right now.”

“Look, do me a favor,” Kitty said, leaning towards Webster. “Leave him a ticket at will call.”

“Why?” Webster was surprised by the request. It was a little passive for Kitty, a woman of action.

“Because I am sentimental and I’ve seen too many chick flicks. I’m not going to ask you to take cabs all over the city. But there is a chance that he’ll see you in the paper and I just think it would be romantic.” Kitty smiled a wistful smile.

“You are unhinged,” Webster said. “You met him. Do you really think romantic is an adjective that you would use to describe him? Because I spent four days in a car with him and I have to go with no. He’s not going to show up, Kitty. He’s made it fairly clear he wants nothing to do with me.”

“Web, you write for a living,” Ron said, setting a plate of burgers on the table. “Have you considered that you might be a pretty intimidating pen pal?”

Webster took a long blink on that one, he honestly hadn’t thought of it that way.

“You’re worried about home field advantage, I’m pretty sure swapping emails would be yours,” Ron continued.

“There you go,” Kitty said. “Maybe it might be time to give Joe a shot at having the upper hand for a bit.”

Webster sighed. That was a pretty scary proposition, to give Joe the upper hand, because he honestly had no idea what Joe would do with it. And despite what Ron said, even if there was a little truth to it, Joe had yet to show any interest in him. Hell, Webster didn’t even know for sure if Joe had read the email. Since Webster’s email featured his name, it was entirely possible that Joe had just deleted it without even looking at it. But leaving him a ticket wasn’t a very active measure.

“All right, fine,”’ Webster said. “I’ll leave the ticket, but he’s not going to pick it up.”

“Wanna bet?” Kitty said, sounding completely sure of herself. “I have twenty bucks that says lover boy turns up at your lecture.”

“Kitty, I’m not going to take your money,” Webster said.

“Oh no, dear. I make my living on people looking starry eyed at houses. The way Joe walked around that house with you? He was measuring it for drapes and already moving his stuff in. Joe isn’t going to miss your lecture for the world.”

The confidence that Kitty said that with left Webster terrified of what might be waiting for him in San Francisco.

*~*

“You know, if you guys are going to talk about me, you should probably try not to look guilty when I walk in the room,” Joe said.

From the second he left his bedroom and saw Grant and Chris, he knew that they had been talking about him. Chris was sitting on the barstool and Grant was standing in the kitchen, leaning on the counter.

“So what is it, what did I do?” Joe said as he walked into the kitchen. He hadn’t even had coffee yet. Whatever this was, it was too early to ask him to deal with it.

Grant held up the morning paper that Tab gave him shit for buying every morning on his way back from his run. Joe took the paper and was about to ask what was going on when he noticed the ad at the bottom of the page.

“Motherfucker,” Joe swore as he tossed the paper back on the counter. “Possession is like nine tenths of the law, this is my fucking city.”

He opened the cabinet to retrieve a coffee cup. “I mean, fucking hell. Shouldn’t he have to call ahead so I could conveniently be somewhere else.”

It had been a couple of months since he’d seen Webster. August had faded into September, September into October, and Joe had been busy getting his life back together that he hadn’t noticed. By the time Webster actually got here, it would be nearly November so at least he had time to prepare. And figure out where he wanted to go so he could avoid being in the city.

“So he didn’t email you?” Grant asked as Joe poured his coffee.

“Nope. Radio fuckin’ silence,” Joe said, putting the coffee pot back with maybe a bit more force than necessary.

“To be fair, you didn’t answer his last email,” Chris said.

Joe glared at Chris over his coffee mug, but Grant cut in before he could say anything.

“Yeah, no reason or logic things like that. Always a bad idea before he’s had coffee. Sit on that train of thought for an hour or so.”

Chris smiled and shook his head. “So you’re going to go, right?”

“No,” Joe said quickly.

Grant turned around and gave him a strange look.

“Right?” Joe said, suddenly confused.

“Yeah, I’m just…” Grant shook his head. “I’m surprised you came up with that all on your own. I would have thought you’d want to go just to fuck with him.”

Joe’s eyes narrowed. “Charles Grant, you are an asshole. You are trying to play me into going.”

“And I almost succeeded,” Grant said.

“You should have made Tab try, I might have fallen for it,” Joe said, leaning on the counter. “But no, fuck this. I’m not going. If he wants to slip out here under the cover of darkness, I’m not going to stand in his way.”

“But you like him?” Grant said. “I know you want to kill him sometimes, but most of the time you like him. You’re not over him, so why not go?”

“Because what happens next? I’m going to go play house with him in Albuquerque?” Joe said, almost slamming his coffee cup on counter.

“Why not?” Grant said, shrugging.

“You have to ask that? You’re the one that thought I was going to crash and burn in Boston. What the hell makes you think that New Mexico is going to be any different?” Joe said, now practically yelling. With Tab still trying to sleep, that was a dick move, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.

“Because you have got to do something,” Grant said, matching Joe’s volume. “When you got back here I thought just being in San Francisco could make you happy. It hasn’t, you spent the entire damn summer moping. So you are not over him and don’t pretend you are because you’re not. You’re still crazy about him. So go to this thing to figure it out. Decide that you’re moving again or get the fuck over him.”

“I have not been moping-“

“Yes, you have,” Tab agreed, leaning against the doorframe of his bedroom. “We’ve just been too nice to mention it.”

“I have no idea what to say to him,” Joe said.

“So figure it out, you got a couple of weeks,” Tab said, walking into the kitchen.

“I’m stuck on ‘hey fuck face what gives you the right to dump all that shit on me and expect me to know what to do with it’.” Joe said.

“So start there. It’s an honest place to start,” Grant said.

“Besides, you can enjoy the fact that it’s probably going to really fuck with him that you just showed up at his lecture,” Chris said.

A smile pulled at the corner of Joe’s mouth because fuckin’ with Webster was appealing. “He has to know I’m going to figure it out. It’s not like they are sneaking him in here.”

“That doesn’t mean that you’ll actually have the balls to show up,” Tab said.

“Is it twisted that I want to see the look on his face when he notices that Joe is there?” Grant said, visibly fighting laughter.

“A little,” Tab said. “But I do too.”

“God, you guys are horrible,” Chris said, smiling and shaking his head. “I actually feel sorry for this guy when he has to meet you.”

“Hey, we were nice to you,” Tab said as he got a coffee mug out of the cabinet.

“Yeah, but I now wonder what you said behind my back,” Chris said.

Joe tried to school his features into something neutral, he really did. Because after he had gotten back and met Chris, he had liked him. He and Tab had never said anything bad about Chris. But what kind of friends would they be if they didn’t give Grant crap about it? So he really tried, but he made the mistake of looking over at Tab. The second they made eye contact both of them dissolved into laughter.

“And this is not encouraging,” Chris said, gesturing between the two of them.

“They’re...” Grant started before looking at the pair of them still trying to get themselves back together. “We are horrible people. You just have to get used to it. So are you going or not?” Grant turned his attention back to Joe.

“I don’t know if it’s worth listening to his lecture on sharks, just to screw with him,” Joe said.

“What about to fuck him?” Tab asked.

Everyone in the room turned to look at him.

“What? Like that’s not on the table. They fucked like bunnies as they drove here. The only reason Joe took the ride in the first place was because he wanted to fuck him. Let’s not pretend that these two are going to end up just friends after this.” Tab sounded a little surprised that he was the only one that had thought of that.

“I’m…oh fuck it, maybe it would be worth it. And before you start,” Joe said, turning to Grant. “I know we have shit to work out, but you know, maybe there is a reward for all that work.”

Grant shook his head. And Joe had to admit maybe there was cause to worry about him.

*~*

Webster knew before he even stepped up to the podium that he was fucked. He knew because there had been a nice lady from the aquarium that had felt compelled to tell him that his friend had picked up his ticket. That took him a second. The gears in his head had grinded for a moment before he remembered. Joe. That meant Joe was here. Thank you to Kitty for her desire to further a romantic subplot that had given him enough warning so he knew when he looked out to the crowd, he was going see messy brown hair and a smirk.

He hadn’t expected a shirt with buttons, yet he didn’t know what he had expected. That would imply that he had been thinking of this moment and he hadn’t. But he definitely hadn’t expected Joe to take this seriously enough to turn it into a dress up occasion. Webster had braced himself to be heckled, but Joe had been on his best behavior. When the floor had been opened to questions, he’d braced himself again. But nothing came. Sure, he got a couple of questions about his writing process, where his interest in sharks came from, and if he had a favorite shark. Nothing he hadn’t been asked before and none of them from Joe.

So by time he got to the signing portion of the evening, it felt like he had a knot in his chest. He didn’t think he’d been this nervous in his life. And then he realized that that was exactly what Joe wanted. Joe liked winding him up just for fun and because he could. So the whole day Webster had been playing right into his hand. So after a deep breath, Webster resolved not to worry about what the hell Joe was doing there. And he almost succeeded.

When the last of the patrons had filed out, leaving just him and Joe standing in the room, he shoved himself away from the table and stood up. “Whatever you are going say, save it because there are people here that I’d like to still think I’m a professional adult when I leave. And me screaming at you isn’t going to leave them with that feeling.”

Joe smirked at him before he nodded his head in the direction of the exit. At the sight of Joe’s retreating back, Webster let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. As predicted, the director of the aquarium and the director of the sharks’ exhibit came over to talk to him. At this point even these interactions felt rehearsed. He was delighted to be here, so thankful for the opportunity, and he’ll try to see as much the city as he could. After the round of awkward chit chat and forced politeness, Webster was normally grateful to get to the parking lot. This time that location presented its own challenges.

As Webster descended the stairs toward the parking lot, he saw Joe sitting on the blue railing smoking a cigarette. The San Francisco sun had done him some favors and someone appeared to be making sure he was eating. He looked good, but he’d always looked good to Webster. That was part of Webster’s problem, overriding the urge to run his fingers though Joe’s hair, pull him close, and not worry about any of the things they needed to worry about.

“You know, that wasn’t half as boring as I thought it would be,” Joe said as Webster walked towards him.

“I was a little surprised you came,” Webster said as he arrived next to Joe, who was still sitting on the railing.

“Couldn’t have been too surprised. You left me a ticket,” Joe said before taking a drag from his cigarette.

“Kitty talked me into it. I was trying to get out of here without you noticing,” Webster said.

“Because I didn’t answer your email,” Joe said.

Webster shook his head as if he could clear that whole episode from his memory and possibly Joe’s. “Yeah, because of that.”

“Why did you even send that email?” Joe asked, kicking his feet out slightly in front of himself.

“I don’t know. I tend to go a little crazy where you’re concerned,” Webster admitted.

“Like when you named the cat?” Joe asked. He was smiling and Webster wanted to kiss him.

“I blame my summer reading list,” Webster said, leaning against the railing next to Joe.

“You read them?”

“Yeah, don’t ask me why. I’m going to plead temporary insanity. You weren’t there when I woke up. Jesus Christ, Joe. Don’t you think I deserved a goodbye?”

“Fucking hell, like you were going to let me go without a fight. You really expected me to wait around so you could drop all the shit from the email on me in person? Yeah, hard to believe that I’d want to skip that. It was bad enough having to fucking read it.” Joe threw his cigarette down onto the ground. He hopped off the railing and crunched the butt under the toe of his shoe.

“I know it was a shitty thing to do-”

“Then why did do it?” Joe said.

“Because I wanted a dialog. I wanted to bitch to you about my novel. I wanted to know if you’d found a job, if you got your license. I didn’t…I missed you. That’s why.” Webster shifted uncomfortably against the railing. 

“You can’t say shit like that and expect me do something with it,” Joe snapped.

“I know. I’m not...I’m not expecting you to do anything with it. I’d like you to do a lot with it, but I know it’s an asshole thing to do, to ask. Because I can’t promise it’s going to be any better than last time. And that you’re not going to resent me for dragging you down to New Mexico and away from your life here. I just think it’s something that I’m interested in figuring out, because I miss you.”

Joe was about to say something. Webster watched as his mouth opened and then he seemed to have thought better of it. He pulled his bottom lip over his teeth and shook his head. He took a couple steps towards Webster so they were standing toe to toe before he reached out and guided Webster forward into a kiss. Webster knew he should push Joe away because this solved nothing. Instead, he pulled Joe forward by his hips and opened his lips under Joe’s insistent tongue.

Joe pulled back, resting his forehead against Webster’s. “Can you stop talking for five minutes? I can’t think when you do that.”

Webster nodded and allowed Joe to pull him into another kiss. It solved nothing, there was still a lot that needed to be said. But he missed this so he held Joe’s hips tighter and enjoyed the ride.

*~*

Joe was missing a couple of steps. He knew he took them, he just couldn’t quite remember taking them. He remembered stumbling into the rented town car that was responsible for getting Webster back to his hotel. He remembered the ride over because Web kept removing his hand from Web’s thigh and glaring at him. The hotel lobby though, even what hotel they stopped at, that was not happening for Joe right now. He had no idea how he got into this elevator, it was a blur.

What he did have was Web pressed up against the wall of the elevator and since he’d gotten his tongue in Web’s mouth, he decided to press his luck. He broke the kiss so Web would open his eyes. He watched as those blue eyes tracked his movement towards the hold button of the elevator. 

“What do you say, Web? Want to live dangerously?” Joe asked, his thumb resting on the button. He didn’t know what he was expecting. No, he did. Probably for Web to bitch about the bed he had waiting upstairs. But Web didn’t say anything, he just reached out and pressed Joe’s thumb into the button.

“Fuck yes,” Joe swore, pulling Web back into a kiss as the elevator lurched to a stop.

“You know there are cameras in here,” Web said as he undid the buttons of Joe’s shirt, working it open enough so that he could get his mouth on Joe’s neck.

“It doesn’t feel like you care,” Joe said, grinding his hips against Web’s erection.

“Fuck,” Webster hissed before pushing Joe against the control panel. Joe had been about to shove him back just to test Web’s limits. See how rough he was when he wanted it. But when Web’s adept fingers started undoing his belt, he figured it was in his best interest to see how this played out. He knew what was coming when Web started to sink to the floor. He’d thought about it before, what with Web’s inability to keep his mouth closed. But that hadn’t prepared him for the visual of Webster on his knees in the middle of an elevator.

“Shit,” Joe swore and he hated the breathy way that sounded, but Web was wrapping his lips around the head of his cock. Joe’s fingers tangled into Web’s hair on their own accord as Web’s tongue slid along the underside of his shaft. Web didn’t seem to mind since he moaned when Joe pulled ever so slightly on his hair. The vibrations snapped something inside Joe, causing him to rock his hips forward. It had been a while since anyone had done this for him, longer still since it had been good. Web was good and he knew it. Which should have been a turn off but wasn’t really. Not when there was heat, suction, and Web’s fingers leaving bruises on his hips. Web could be as smug as he wanted when Joe’s world blurred around the edges and he came down Web’s throat. Joe rested his head against the wall as Webster put him back together.

Before he could get his belt done up, Joe hauled Web up by his shoulders, hell bent on returning the favor when Web gasped, “I want…” He trailed off, seeming to think better of it.

“No, come on,” Joe said, fingers in Web’s hair, stroking this time and slowly pushing him back against the wall. “What do you want? After that, you get whatever you want.”

Joe popped the button of Web’s fly and worked the zipper down before Web whispered, “Talk to me,” like it was something to be ashamed of.

Joe smiled and slid his hand into Web’s boxers, setting an agonizingly slow rhythm. But Joe was pretty sure it was going to be the words coming out of his mouth that got Web off. Joe licked the shell of Web’s ear and blew air across the damp skin before he started talking.

“Want me to tell you how good you were? Sitting on your knees for me on the floor of an elevator? Tell you what a pretty mouth you have?”

Web’s head slumped forward onto Joe’s shoulder as he mouthed the skin at Joe’s neck.

“Or you want me tell you what comes next? So you know what’s in store for round two? Tell you that when we get to your room, I’m going to push you down on that bed, strip you out your fancy dress clothes, and then the fun part begins.”

Web whined high in the back of his throat and Joe picked up his tempo.

“I’m going to open you up nice and slow, until you’re out of your head for me. Until you beg, and you will because you know I’m good. Better then you’ve had before and you’ve missed me. So you’ll beg.”

Web grasped the hand rail behind him so tightly his knuckles turned white.

“I’m going to fuck you slow too, because you feel good. And you make me crazy, the noises you make, and the way you hang onto me for dear life. You leave bruises every time. So I’m going to take my time, because I want those marks,” Joe whispered into Web’s ear. He picked up speed and twisted his wrist just so. And because like this it felt less vulnerable somehow, he added, “and because I missed you too.”

Web’s head rocked back and knocked against the elevator wall as he came in Joe’s hand. He was still panting when he tried to ask the question Joe knew he would. “Did you-”

“I mean it,” Joe said, his nose rubbing against Web’s. “I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t.”

Web kissed him again and Joe knew they were fucked. Maybe Web knew they were too. So much was standing in-between them. Who was moving where? Who was going to ask? Who was going to have to make the hard choice? So much distance keeping them apart and no desire to be the one that forces the conversation about closing it. But for right now, and a few moments yet to unfold on Web’s bed, they were right where they needed to be. And there was no space between them at all.

*~*

If Webster hadn’t woken up and turned it off, his alarm would be going off right now. But he’s been up for a couple of hours. Lying in bed. Willing himself to go back to sleep. But it was a lost cause, his mind just wouldn’t stop racing. And he was also desperately trying not to stare at the man lying next to him. It seemed weird to watch Joe sleep. Right now he was failing, messy hair and Joe’s relaxed peaceful face proved to be a far too appealing combination for Webster to break his gaze. He knew he had to. He had get up, get dressed, and head to the airport. He had an early flight to Oregon to catch and fair bit of driving before he got to tonight’s stop. He didn’t want to leave. He wanted to stay here or drag Joe along with him. He knew both of those were options that he did not have. He sighed and got up, knowing that after last night, he needed a shower.

After last night, he knew that they were at an impasse. One of them had to give in and for some reason Webster was reluctant, down right resistant to be the one that gave in. He’d already moved across the country, but for some reason it felt completely unreasonable to ask him to give one more inch in this relationship. If it could even be called that. Did you really have a relationship if the most significant feelings you shared were during sex? He wasn’t budging. If moves were going to be made now, they were going to have to be made by Joe. Joe was going to have to give him something.

He knew that sounded petty, and more than a little childish, but that’s where he was at with this. He wanted a gesture, some act to say that he wasn’t alone in this. Well, some gesture beside sex. Fairly spectacular sex, but sex all the same. He just want one. One act that said ‘I’m in this with you.’ One that required a little more sacrifice then driving across town.

It was selfish, but that was were Webster was at right now, standing in the shower, the water running down to wet his hair. He knew that there had to have been a lot of pride swallowing and soul searching to get Joe to the aquarium. And it probably made him a real asshole to ask for more. So here he was, an asshole. But he was an asshole that was sticking to his guns.

As he got ready, he tried to make as much noise as he could with it being obvious that that was what he was doing. He wanted Joe to wake up. Because he realized now how he could end up in position that Joe had ended up in what seemed like a lifetime ago. How on earth do you make a graceful exit from this situation? The thought of waking Joe up was a little more than Webster thought he could handle. If he snuck out though, could he really hold onto the moral high ground? Almost assuredly not. And he was pretty fond of the high ground at this point.

When he exited the bathroom, Joe was still fast asleep, one arm tucked under his pillow, the other resting on top of it. The smooth expanse of his back, visible above the rumpled sheets at his waist, was inviting. Webster wanted to climb back into bed with him, leave a trail of wet kisses down his spine and let the world spin around outside the hotel. He couldn’t. For a number reasons. Like the promise he made to Hoob that he would take this tour seriously.

There was also the fact that he was determined not to repeat this pattern again. Flying in here and crashing into Joe. Webster knew what he wanted, he wanted a relationship. With a shared living space, feelings, and shared activities that weren’t sex. He didn’t feel like he was asking for a lot in that respect.

So Webster gathered his things together and walked out into the living area of the room. He paused at the desk before he sat down and retrieved a sheet of hotel stationery.

Joe-

I didn’t want to wake you, but I have an early flight to Oregon. The room is paid until noon, enjoy the breakfast I can’t wait around for. I know you’re going to hate me for leaving, you have the right. I did. But I don’t want this to be like last time, I’d like you to answer if I wrote you. I think it’s a lot to ask for you to live with me if we can’t even manage emails. But I miss you when you’re not around. And if you miss me too, maybe that means something.

He sighed it Web, even though he hated that nickname and had hated it ever since third grade. He managed to hate it less when Joe said it. He stared at the notepad before placing the pen beside it. He got up, grabbed his bag, and tried to find a way to feel better about what he was doing.

He knew he had to do something because moments like this were making it hard it to hang on to Joe. The feeling of elation of sex in an elevator was followed very swiftly the next morning by having your chest kicked in with grief. The feeling like you were everything to someone and then being reminded that they had a life that didn’t seem to have a space in it for you.

As he closed the door behind him, he had no idea if this would be the last time he’d see or hear from Joe. There was a good chance Joe would wake up, throw the note in the trash, and be done with him. But Joe was hard on his best days, he could end up doing something truly surprising. All that was left for Web to do now was wait.

*~*

Joe woke up to the sound of his cell phone vibrating against the nightstand. He groaned, blindly reached out, and felt around the nightstand until his hand closed over his phone. He slid his thumb over the screen and groaned into it when he held it to his ear.

“You didn’t come home last night.” Tab’s voice sounded far too joyful for this hour of the morning.

“Christ, it’s too early for this shit,” Joe groaned as he threw off the blanket, remembered where he was, and realized that the bed was empty. “Too early for all of this shit.”

“Are you with the professor?” Tab asked.

“Not anymore,” Joe replied, looking around the room and seeing no sign of another person in the room.

“Where are you?” Tab asked.

That’s a good question, Joe thought, reaching over and grabbing a flyer from the hotel off the nightstand. “The Hyatt down by the wharf.”

“Want me to come pick you up?”

“I’m ok. I can get a bus or something back to my car.”

“Sit tight. I’ll pick you up, we’ll get breakfast, and then I can take you back to your car.”

Joe hesitated a moment before agreeing. “Yeah, all right.”

In the light of morning, and without an all-consuming distraction, Joe could appreciate that this was a pretty nice hotel room. It figured Web wouldn’t let them put him up just anywhere. As he showered, he had it admit he’d have thought Web would have woken him up. For as much bitching as he did when Joe had left him, he’d have thought that if the tables were reversed that Web would have done it differently. Turns out for all his indignation, the professor was just as much of a coward as he was. Joe wanted to feel vindicated by this. Instead, he just felt empty and hollow. Which reminded him how gone he was on Webster because he had managed to have one nightstands in the past. And waking up alone had never caused him to feel like drowning himself in the shower the next morning.

As he was heading out the door, dress shirt thrown over his shoulder and wearing his gray undershirt, he saw the note on the desk.

“Of course writer boy leaves a note,” Joe said to the empty hotel room. Joe picked the note up and read it. Web was right. Joe did hate him and he crumpled the note up into a ball in his hand. He aimed at the trash can before clenching his hand tighter around the ball of paper. His fist trembled a bit.

“Fuckin’ damn it,” Joe swore as he shoved the ball of paper into his pocket and headed down stairs. Tab was waiting for him outside where people pulled up to drop off their bags.

“I have never in my life felt more like a hooker then I do right now,” Joe said as he climbed into Tab’s car and threw his shirt in the back seat.

“But such a cute hooker,” Tab said, smiling.

“Shut up and drive. If I never have to come back to this hotel that would be awesome,” Joe said, buckling his seatbelt. “Just find somewhere greasy and bad for me.”

“Sounds good. So I take it the two of you didn’t work out any of your issues?”

“Oh why worry about that when it’s more fun to make new ones?” Joe said, rolling down the window.

“Grant totally owes me twenty bucks. I knew you wouldn’t suddenly develop maturity. Sure, you’ve made progress. But if it comes down to feelings or fucking, you choose fucking every time.”

“And you don’t?” Joe snapped.

Tab shrugged. “It takes one to know one. So are you two back to radio silence?”

“He wants to swap emails like this is third grade and we are pen pals,” Joe said.

“So you’re not going to do it?”

“I didn’t say that,” Joe said.

“So?” Tab added extra vowels to demonstrate the question.

“I don’t know yet,” Joe said.

“Bullshit,” Tab said. “You know. You know if you want to email him or not. Hell, you know if you want to live with him. You know these things, Joe. You just don’t want to admit them. You know what you want to do. It’s just a matter of doing it.”

“I’m not moving again for a guy,” Joe said, shaking his head. “I’m just not going to do it.”

Tab nodded. “That’s fair. It sucks you lost that spirit. I kinda thought it was brave. I mean yeah, it ended badly, but you took a risk, you tested your limits, and that took guts.”

Tab paused for a moment and let his words hang in the air as he drove another block.

“For what it’s worth though, I think it would be different this time. He’s already met you more than halfway. I mean, let’s give him a shot before we up and declare him an asshole. Worst case scenario, Grant and I have to drive down there some weekend and move you back.”

“You know it’s not simple on my end right? I don’t just pack my shit up and move back like nothing ever happened.” Joe said.

“I know,” Tab said, nodding. “But it’s a long drive back to San Francisco and we can work the rest out on the way. Besides, we’d visit more. You won’t have those god awful winters this time. The professor will have summers off, so you can drag him up our way. I’d like to think this would all work out.”

“You think you can handle Grant and I moving back to back on you like that?” Joe knew that even though Grant hadn’t said anything, at some point he and Chris would move in together. It was only a matter of time.

“Yeah, I’ll be ok,” Tab said. “You know, I might grow up a little, become an adult, and maybe meet a pretty girl.”

“I didn’t think you had a problem meeting them,” Joe said.

“Well, maybe with you two out of the house, I might be able to convince one of ‘em to stick around.”

Joe laughed as they pulled into a diner. He knew what he had to do now. He just wasn’t sure he had the courage to do it.

*~*

“I’m a horrible person.”

Upon reflection, those were maybe not the greatest words to open a phone call with. Hello was a great start. Maybe some kind of introduction. Webster negated all of those and, because he was a good friend, Lip took it in stride.

“What did you do now, Web?”

“So I was in San Francisco last night-”

“Oh, I don’t like where this is going,” Lip said.

“And Joe was there,” Webster continued as if he had not been interrupted.

“Oh Jesus, it went exactly where I thought it would. Let me guess, you lit out of there this morning like a bat out of hell?”

“I already said I was a horrible person,” Webster said. “Bare that in mind before you go and make me feel worse about this.”

“I mean Jesus Christ, Web,” Lip said. “After what he put you through, you turn around and do the exact same thing. How do you expect him to reach out to you when you pull a stunt like that?”

“Ok, I had an early flight.” Even as he says it, he knows that’s not an excuse.

“Yeah and that prevented you from waking him up how?”

“It was three o’clock in the morning and I lacked the courage, but I left a note. And I know that doesn’t make it better, but that was more than what I got.”

“Oh, so evening the score?” Lip asked. “So do you feel better now that you two are even?”

“It wasn’t like that. I wasn’t doing it on purpose. It wasn’t like I set out to hurt him. I just…”  
Webster sighed, not sure where he was heading with this thought. “He makes me absolutely crazy and not in a fun way. There are times I cannot imagine spending any more time with him than I already have. And there are moments-”

“That you don’t want to do this without him, even though he makes you crazy,” Lip finished. “It happens to the best of us. Do you think Ron particularly likes being dragged to elementary school functions or that it drives him up the wall when I start motherhening? Yes, I know I do it. No, I don’t think I’m capable of stopping. Or remember, if it’s not traumatic, what Ron was like when he was writing his book. Do you think I enjoy apologizing to people, sometimes perfect strangers, because my boyfriend can be an asshole? No, he hates it and I am often mortified. But then it has its moments. Like when he quits the job he loves and moves across the country just for you. You didn’t have to ask, he just packed up and moved away from his family like it was nothing. And it’s moments like that that make you forget the last time you were embarrassed at a cocktail party, and even if you could remember, it wouldn’t matter. Because you can’t imagine doing this with anyone else in the world. Because they love you and take you as you are. Even when you make them crazy. Trust me, Web. You are no picnic so I’m sure Joe is crazy too. And not in a fun way.”

Webster didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t envision a life with Joe that mirrored the life Lip had with Ron. It had honestly never occurred to him to try.

“It’s kinda scary when you realize you love him, isn’t it?” Lip said.

“I…I don’t…”Webster wanted to deny it. To protest against the implication that it was possible to love somebody after such a short period of time. They still hadn’t quite spent a week together. It was far too soon to admit that he was in love. Love took time. Love was a slow build. You didn’t feel it overnight.

“It sneaks up on fast, doesn’t it?” Lips said. 

This wasn’t how it worked. People met at parties. Through mutual friends, that they would be prefect for each other. They went out on dates. They went to movies, tried new restaurants together. You just didn’t meet the person you were supposed to spend the rest of your life with at a Massachusetts rest stop. This was not how these things happened.

“I’m pretty sure Joe is having a number of feelings about me right now and I doubt any of them are even remotely close to love,” Webster said, deciding he needed more time to sort out his own feelings before he started arguing about them.

“And whose fault would that be?”

“You cannot put this on me,” Webster said, knowing he sounded a little defensive. But he figured he had the right. “He didn’t have those feelings before either.”

“Oh, and how do you know? Web, he came to your lecture, which I’m sure for him was about as interesting as watching paint dry. But he came, sat through it, and didn’t cause a scene or I’d have heard about it by now. If that isn’t love, I don’t know what is. Do you think military advancements brought to us by the Romans is an interest of mine? No, but I go to Ron’s lectures because that’s what you do when the person you love is giving a lecture at the university to promote his book. And Joe turned up at the aquarium for the same reason. Which took guts, by the way, because you could have had a very negative reaction to him being there.”

“I wanted to,” Webster said. “But then I also wanted to be invited back so I controlled myself.”

“It’s a natural reaction to being hurt,” Lip said. “So you have to keep that in mind because whatever reaction Joe has, you’ve earned it.”

Webster nodded even though Lip couldn’t see him. He could only imagine what reaction Joe was going to decide to have. He wasn’t really looking forward to finding out. 

“How’s Quinn?” Webster asked because he was worried about her and he was tired of talking about Joe. He was tired about thinking about him too, but he didn’t seem to be able to stop.

“She’s doing good,” Lip said. “Ron’s been letting her have the run of the house at night rather than putting her in her crate. If you’re gone for too much longer, we may not want to give her back.” 

“I’ll kidnap her in the middle of the night,” Webster said. He wasn’t really surprised that Quinn had melted Lip’s heart, but he was shocked she’d also done a number on Ron.

“And we’ll steal her back when you tour for the next novel,” Lip said.

Webster groaned, he didn’t even want to think that far ahead. He regretted not telling Joe that he’d finished his novel and it was all thanks to Joe’s advice.


	9. Nine

Pulling up to his house in a cab, Webster has never been happier to be home in his life. He wanted a shower, see his cat, and then sleep for the foreseeable future. But since Lip and Kitty were waiting for him, he might have to delay the nap.

“Feel good to be home?” Lip asked.

“Yes, it feels amazing to be home,” Webster said.

“Quinn’s in there running around the house and I left the mail on the counter. I’m pretty sure your editor sent back their changes. There is a pretty heavy box in there.”

“Oh lord, that’s the last thing I wanted to be doing,” Webster said with a groan.

“I put a pot roast in your fridge because you have no groceries to speak of,” Kitty said, changing the subject and patting his shoulder.

“Yeah, I threw most everything out before I left,” Webster said. He decided not to tell her that he tended to avoid his kitchen as much as possible. And never had a lot of groceries anyway.

“Lip mentioned that you are somewhat challenged, so I left instructions on how to heat it up just in case. You can bring rolls or something next Friday. We won’t ask too much of you.”

“Next Friday?” Webster asked, sure that this was yet another moment where Kitty had planned part of his life without telling him. Cara used to do the same thing.

“We are hosting this Pre-Thanksgiving dinner thing for the teachers. And you and Ron have to be there to save me from the teachers and their holiday-themed sweaters,” Kitty said.

“Hey, do not lump me in with them. I don’t own holiday sweater,” Lip said.

“And I love you for it,” Kitty said. “But to get through the rest of them, I’m going to need a stiff drink and adults to talk to. I love my husband, but loathe elementary school teachers.”

“Ok, I’ll be there to rescue you,” Webster said.

“Great because I’m not really giving you a choice so it will be easier if you come willingly. But I’m not above driving over here and throwing you in my trunk.”

Webster smiled and Lip and Kitty said their goodbyes with Kitty extracting another promise that he would be there next Friday. He got his suitcase inside and just left it there, having neither the will power nor the desire to do the laundry. Quinn ran up to him meowing and he was glad to know she’d missed him. Even if she had managed to wrap her caretakers around her paw. He scooped her up and took his carry-on back to his bedroom.

“Ok, we are going to read one email and then I’m going to sleep until the time change stops hurting,” Webster said as he set Quinn on the bed. He pulled off his shoes and tossed his pants and shirt into the hamper, leaving him in his boxers and his undershirt.

When he’d been waiting for his bag at baggage claim, he’d gotten an email from Joe. From the alert he could see that Joe called him an asshole so he decided to wait until he got home before he read that one. He rubbed Quinn’s shoulders as he waited for the computer to load and his email to pull up.

“Well, I did tell him to write,” Webster said to Quinn as he opened the email.

Web-

You’re an asshole. This not is not a point you get to argue. And also fuck the high ground you’ve been holding onto. I know what I did was shitty, but you didn’t have to return the favor. So the score is settled and you’re an asshole for thinking that it needed to be. 

Now that we have that covered. Did you finish the novel? Did you let his friend live? How was the tour? Are you teaching again?

And most importantly: how is Quinn?

Webster smiled, it was a start. It was something they could build on. “Of course he asks about you,” Webster said and Quinn just slept on.

Joe-

I know. And in case I didn’t, Lip made sure to drive that point home.

Yes, I finished the novel. I got the edits back while I was on tour and I’m doing literally anything else to avoid them. I think the only reason I finished it was because I took your advice. You were right, life is cruel enough, you don’t need to add to it. The tour was a nightmare. I never want to do that again. But if I finish my edits then I will. See my problem?

Well, there was one night in San Francisco that was pretty memorable.

I start teaching at a community college here in January. I’m teaching three British Lit. classes. When we start Jane Austen I’m going to add alcoholic to my list of writer clichés. But the hours are not as demanding so I’ll have more time to write. Don’t ask me what, I haven’t figured that part out yet.

Quinn is trying to decide if she’s forgiven me for leaving her for so long.

What about you? How are the roommates? Did you find chair space or did you go back to driving a cab?

Would you come down to visit if I asked?

Webster stared at the blinking line on his computer before he backspaced the last sentence. Too forward. Too much, too soon. The answer was going to be no. There was no point in asking. When he got to the ‘would’ his finger paused over the key. Webster sighed.

“Fuck it,” he said.

He hit control ctrl z a few times until the sentence repaired.

This time he sighed it ‘Web’ and hit send before he changed his mind. He sighed and closed his eyes.

“Well, the worst thing he can say is no,” Webster said, before closing the laptop. That email was probably enough damage for the day. He put his computer on the nightstand and pulled the covers around himself. He knew that he was now going to lay there and wait for the alert noise on his phone.

*~*

“What are you doing out here?” Grant asked, sticking his head out the window.

“Getting the hair out of my shoes,” Joe said, lips clenched around a cigarette.

“That is so gross,” Grant said.

“It’s clean hair,” Joe said, beating his shoe against the railing. “I washed it myself.”

“It’s still gross,” Grant said, climbing out the window to sit on the sill.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date or something?” Joe said before he started on the other shoe.

“We are having a fight,” Grant said.

“What on earth could the golden couple be fighting about?” Joe said, looking up from his shoe.

“Thanksgiving. He asked if I wanted to go meet his family. I said not yet, and that was the wrong thing to say. But I don’t think I’m ready for him to meet my family. So I didn’t think it was fair if I wasn’t ready to reciprocate. I mean, you’ve met my family. There’s my vulgar mother, who I love but will no doubt take this opportunity to embarrass the crap out of me. Pick a sister, any sister, all of them bring their own awkwardness like it’s their fucking carry-on. Especially Lydia who married hers and I give it ten minutes before her husband says something deeply offensive and probably homophobic. I just think there are some bullets that you shouldn’t ask your partner to take before you’ve been together six months. Hypothetically, you are dating the professor, do you take him to dinner at your parents?”

“Oh fuck,” Joe said, shaking his head and flicking ash off his cigarette. “It’s at Janie’s this year so that means Phoenix, with the four kids. Oh and Hannah did us all the favor of getting pregnant so my mother is in the throes of grandbaby fever. So yeah, it would be a nightmare. But it’s not like next year will be any better. Next year it will be at Hannah’s ‘since the baby won’t be old enough to travel’,” Joe said in a high voice that was supposed to mock his sister’s. “So that means we will have to drive down to Sacramento, my mother will still be embarrassing, and one of my sisters will probably be pregnant. There’s also the chance that my brother will do the deeply uncool thing and propose to his girlfriend. Then we’d get all those fun questions about when we are getting married. That’s my family and it’s not going to change. Remember the first time you met my mother? You thanked her for letting you stay at the house and she told you not worry about it because in an alternate universe, you were probably her son-in-law.”

“I still can’t figure out if she was marrying me off to you or to one of your sisters,” Grant said.

“I don’t think she is that picky.” Joe said. “The point is that my mother is always going to be embarrassing. If she met Web, she’d probably helpfully point out that she’s always wanted a grandchild with blue eyes. That’s just my mother and I love her anyway. And your mother is probably going to drink just a little bit too much and will ask Chris a completely inappropriate sexual question during dinner. But she’d do that next year too, you can’t keep him away from them forever.”

“There is no way he sits through dinner with my family and doesn’t go, ‘oh wow, no, you are so not worth this’,” Grant said.

“Sure he will, ‘cause you’re a catch, kid,” Joe said, smiling at Grant.

Grant shook his head, but he smiled and Joe figured that was enough. Tab and Joe had been trying to convince Grant for years he was catch. After all, both their mothers thought so. It just never seemed to take. Maybe Chris would have more luck.

“So are you going to take a detour on your way back from Phoenix?” Grant asked.

“The way down actually. Is that completely crazy?” Joe asked, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Well, he said you should visit,” Grant said with a shrug.

“No,” Joe said, gesturing towards Grant with the two fingers holding his cigarette. “He wanted to know if he asked me to, would I come visit.”

“He asked you to come visit,” Grant said firmly, removing the option to argue the point further.

“So you think I should?”

“I think if you want to, you should at least tell him you are going to be in the neighborhood. If you want to make him ask you, that’s up to you.”

“Actually, I was thinking I’d show up on his doorstep and see if he’d let me in,” Joe said, his knee bouncing in a slightly nervous way.

“Oh lord,” Grant said. “You would do that. But why wouldn’t you do that, it’s not like he’s going to say no?”

“What? It’s not like he went out of his way to tell me that he was coming up here,” Joe said as he snuffed out his cigarette in the ashtray Grant had brought home.

“Yeah, but you had the advertisement in the paper, he’s not going to have anything. Just one morning he’s going to open his door and you’ll be standing there.”

“You don’t think he’d be thrilled to see me?” Joe asked, batting his eyelashes.

Grant shook his head, “How do you even know he’s going to be there? He could be heading off to see his own family.”

“I was planning on leaving a week early,” Joe said.

“You have actually thought this out,” Grant said. “This isn’t something that you just pulled out your ass a second ago. How long have you been kicking this around?”

“Just a couple of days,” Joe said, trying for a noncommittal shrug. The truth was that he’d been planning this since he’d read Web’s email, a couple of days ago. He’d written back. Told Web what he was doing now, joked about the cat. But that last question, he couldn’t seem to get around that. 

He’d ignored it when he responded. But he hadn’t actually been able to ignore it completely.

Would you come down to visit if I asked?

Yes.

*~*

Since he’d gotten home from the tour, Webster had been a very productive individual. He’d ordered rock to be delivered to fill in his backyard. He’d finished unpacking all of his boxes from Boston. He’d packed all the books by British authors he owned into boxes to take to his office. He’d written his syllabus, his reading guides, quizzes, and exams. And he’d taken up running in the morning. He had not, however, touched his edits, other than to move the box around his table. The text messages from Hoob were becoming increasingly more threatening. He just didn’t think he had it in him to plan another tour right now.

So every morning for the last couple of days, he’d woken up and gone for a run around his neighborhood. He’d plan his day and militantly not think about his edits. Like today, he had to run to the store, pick up things for Kitty’s party, and take the boxes of books over to his office so Quinn would stop sleeping on them. He didn’t really want to take a pound of cat hair over to his new office.

He’d just rounded the corner when he saw the cab in front of his house. He came to a complete stop as he saw a familiar profile and green duffel exit the cab. As he ran towards his house, he watched Joe walk up his driveway to knock on the door.

“You know, most people call first,” Webster said as he got to the end of the driveway.

“Yeah, most people don’t pick up hitchhikers,” Joe said, turning to look at him.

“I’m a little surprised you remember where I live,” Webster said as he walked up his driveway.

“Two years driving a cab,” Joe said. “It’s just the way my brain works now.”

Webster smiled as he unlocked the door.

“Well, I can see you didn’t go crazy with the redecorating,” Joe said as he walked in and set his duffel down inside the door.

“You haven’t seen the master bathroom,” Webster said.

“Pepto pink is gone?” Joe said.

“Yeah, Kitty supervised that while I was on the tour,” Webster said. “It’s gray to match the bedroom now.”

Joe might have been going to say something, but Quinn came into the room meowing at the top her lungs.

“Well, hello there,” Joe said, taking a step towards her. The second he did, Quinn took off running down the hall.

“She thinks you’re going to feed her,” Webster explained. “She normally gets breakfast when I get back from my run.”

“Oh,” Joe said. “Seems like you’ve gotten settled in here.”

“I’m trying. I still have no idea what to do with these bedrooms.” Webster turned into the first one to feed Quinn her kitten chow. “I might turn the one with closet space into a guest bedroom, but no one has come to visit.”

“Hey,” Joe said somewhat indignantly.

“You are not sleeping in the guest bedroom,” Webster said, crowding into Joe’s personal space.

“Fuck no,” Joe said, wrapping his arm around Webster’s waist and pulling him in so close their chests touched.

“There are things we should be talking about,” Webster said, but he was already leaning in to kiss Joe.

“I like you,” Joe said. “I’m not ready to move down here, but I’m here right now so focus on that.”

“Ok,” Webster said, leaning the rest of the way to kiss Joe.

“Ok,” Joe said, pulling back and sliding his hands under Web’s t-shirt. “So where in this house haven’t you had sex?”

“You have got to be kidding. Who the hell was I going to-”

“Good answer,” Joe said, placing a finger over Web’s lips. “Where do you want to start? And don’t say the bedroom. That’s so boring, we’ll knock that out later. Pick somewhere else. Want to go for on the desk in your office? How about kitchen counter? That couch in the living room looked pretty comfy. You think that dining room table could hold us? Or you just want to do it right here against a wall?”

“I could use a shower,” Webster said.

Joe’s smile was practically ear to ear. “There we go, now you’re talking. Lead the way.”

“Like you don’t remember the way,” Webster said as he walked down the hallway.

“But I like the view from back here,” Joe said.

Webster took off his shirt and threw it behind him.

Joe smirked as he caught it. “Where did this feisty streak come from?”

“You bring out the worst in me,” Webster said as he turned into the master bedroom.

“Or the best,” Joe said, removing his shirt and tossing it in Webster’s direction. Webster ducked to avoid the flying object as he turned into the bathroom.

“Well, this room definitely gets most improved,” Joe said as he looked around at the gray tiles and glass shower door.

“So glad you approve,” Webster said dryly as he turned on the water to give it a chance to warm up.

“I know you are,” Joe said, hauling Webster back over to him by the waistband of his running pants. “You want me to move in here. Get ready for work here. Walk out of here and get in your bed at night.”

“Yeah,” Webster said, nodding.

Maybe Joe needed to say that out loud. Maybe he needed to hear it. Whichever it was, clothes were shed in a hurry after Webster’s confirmation. They almost tripped over each other getting into Webster’s shower and Webster hissed air through his teeth as Joe pressed him back against the cool tiles. Joe’s mouth was on his shoulder and his collarbone. One of those was going to leave a mark, maybe both if he was lucky.

Joe’s mouth and fingers seemed like they were everywhere, slipping and sliding over his wet skin. They were sliding lower, Webster noticed about the time that Joe’s knees hit the tile floor. Joe mouthed across his hip bone, teeth catching of the skin before Joe took him in his mouth. He teased the head, tongue sliding across the slit before Joe took him into his throat. Joe seemed bent on driving Webster crazy, never quite giving the suction Webster needed. Until Webster pulled his hair. That seemed to be what Joe had been waiting for. When the muscles of Joe’s throat fluttered around him, Webster came so hard he saw white.

“Fuck,” Webster swore as Joe straightened up, smirk firmly in place.

“Liked that, did you?” Joe asked even though he knew the answer.

Webster didn’t answer him with words, instead pulling him forwards into a kiss. Changing their positions without falling and breaking their necks took some doing, but Webster managed it. Joe’s eyelids fluttered as Webster got on his knees in front of him. Webster was secure enough in himself to admit he liked doing this. He liked the kind of power that it gave him over his lover, if only for a little while. He liked the way he could make Joe’s breath catch, make him moan, and gasp. He liked the praise too. Joe’s slurred ‘so good’ and gasped ‘ah fuck, Web’ when Joe came.

“Get up here,” Joe said, pulling on Webster’s shoulders.

Joe kissed him, fingers gripping his shoulder hard enough there would be bruises there too. 

“Let me wash your hair and you can think about where you want round two,” Joe whispered across Webster’s lips.

*~*

Joe rolled over in bed and the only thing on the other side of the bed was Quinn sleeping on Web’s pillow. But Joe could smell coffee so he figured Web couldn’t have gotten too far. He pulled on boxers and a t-shirt from the folded laundry basket by the door. When he got to the dining room, he found Webster sitting in front of his computer, typing.

“Are those your edits?” Joe asked, causing Web to jump slightly.

“Yeah, I figured since I was up, I might as well be productive,” Web said, glancing up from the screen to meet Joe’s eyes.

“Why are you up?” Joe asked, opening cupboards at random until he found coffee mugs.

“I didn’t have coffee creamer,” Webster said, this time continuing his typing as he spoke. “There’s caramel in the fridge.”

Joe smiled as he walked over to the fridge. “So what can I say that will convince you to let me drag you back to bed? Or into your office, I’m still a little disappointed we didn’t make it there after the living room.” He smiled because they had knocked the kitchen off the list.

“No, nothing. We…I have things I have to do today besides you,” Webster said, trying to cover up the fact that he’d gotten flustered when he started planning Joe’s day.

“So what do we have to do?” Joe said, bringing his coffee over to the dining room table and sitting down across from Web.

“I have to run to the grocery store so I can pick up rolls for Kitty’s Thanksgiving thing tomorrow. I absolutely have to get those books out of here,” Web said, pointing to two boxes at the end of the table. “They go over to my campus office.”

“Aww, rolls? So you are the useless-in-the-kitchen friend? I mean, the relatively empty fridge was a tip off, but I didn’t know it was this bad,” Joe said, turning his coffee mug on the table. “Tell Kitty if she lets me come to her party, we’ll bring sweet potatoes instead.”

Web reached for his phone that was sitting on top of the stack of finished pages. His fingers moved over the screen. “You should know you just agreed to go to a function thrown for elementary school teachers.”

“At Kitty’s? It can’t be that bad,” Joe said.

Web smiled, but he didn’t argue the point. He went back to his edits and seemed to just find his place again when his phone buzzed. “So what do we need for sweet potatoes?” Webster turned the phone so Joe could read Kitty’s reply.

_Of course he can!!!!!!!!!!!!!_

“Christ, that’s a lot of explanation points,” Joe said.

A search of Web’s kitchen revealed that not only did he not have any of the ingredients for Joe’s sweet potatoes casserole, outside of butter, he didn’t even have a glass baking dish to cook it in. Joe hadn’t expected Web to have sweet potatoes, but he had expected sugar. So he made a list in his phone and tried not to judge.

“I never had anyone to teach me,” Web had protested. Joe tried not to feel sorry for Web because he knew he would hate it. But he remembered learning to cook with his own mother so fondly that it was hard not to. He’d just have to start giving lessons then, starting with sweet potatoes.

So after separate showers, much to Joe’s protest, they started their day like a couple that Joe wasn’t sure they were. They packed the boxes of Web’s books into his trunk, with Joe sneakily slipping lube and a condom into the side of one of the boxes. Because while they were christening things, Webster’s office was somewhere Joe wanted to try for. He wasn’t sure he could get Web to agree to it. But damn it if he wasn’t going to be prepared just in case.

Joe couldn’t help but be a bit disappointed when he got to the campus. He was used to Boston’s colleges with their old buildings and sense of importance. This college was newer, with no sense of grand importance and with modern buildings. It didn’t seem to fit Webster’s personality and Joe felt bad that this concession was made for him. Web’s office was on the fourth and last floor of a building called Russ hall. The elevator that took them up there moved slowly, lurched alarmingly and Joe decide that they would not be having sex in it. If it was up to Joe, they wouldn’t be riding in it again.

Web’s office was at the other end of the hall from the elevator. The whole end of that hall had been turned into a large office with the word ‘Literature’ above the door. It seemed that at least the department had taken it upon themselves to try for grandeur. The door and doorframe’s entry to the department were all made of a dark stained wood that continued as trim around the room and the secretary’s desk.

The secretary that Joe hated instantly. The second they opened the door, her face lit up like it was fucking Christmas tree and aww, hell no. That was not happening while Joe was standing right the fuck there.

She stood up from her desk still smiling, like a besotted school girl. “Hello David, getting the last of your things moved in?”

And fuck that, Joe didn’t even call him David. No, this girl should be confined to Dr. Webster, or if she absolutely had to be familiar, Professor. David was not on her list of acceptable choices.

“Hello Lesley. Yes, we are. This is my-"

“Boyfriend, Joe,” Joe helpfully finished because there was no way that this woman was going to continue to think she had a window here. Joe was clearly going to have to start leaving the hickies a little higher. 

“Well, I’ll leave you to it,” she said, and if her smile looked a little more forced than before, Joe counted it as a win.

Webster’s office was in the far corner of the department. The door was the same dark wood as the rest of the place and had a frosted glass window. The office wasn’t that big, but it had two windows with drawn shades. One of the walls was devoted to a dark wood bookcase and Joe figured that was probably Web’s favorite part. Web closed the door behind them before he started speaking.

“What in the ever loving hell was that?” he said as he set the books down in one of the chairs meant for students. Joe set his down on Web’s empty desk.

“Do you want this in any kind of order?” Joe asked, picking up a couple of the books from his box.

“Alphabetical. Seriously, what the hell was that? Since when the hell do you call me your boyfriend?”

Joe just let the question hang as he pushed Web’s chair back so he could sit down on Web’s desk and start sorting the books in his box. He knew what it was and he couldn’t believe that Web couldn’t figure it out. Joe was absolutely not going to own up to being so jealous of the department secretary that he lost the ability to see straight. 

“Joe, what the hell is this?”

Joe looked up to see Web holding up the condom and lube. Joe had sworn he’d grabbed that box. “Yeah, that was for when I was in better mood.” When the sight of seeing Web in a shirt with buttons had hit his professor kink right on the head.

“Oh my god,” Web said, walking around to where Joe was sitting on his desk and setting the condom and lube next to Joe’s leg. “Are you jealous of my department secretary?”

When Joe didn’t respond, Web continued, “Jesus, Joe. I can’t believe I have to say this. I’m not going to sleep with her.”

“Good for you,” Joe replied, still sorting books.

“Hey, look at me,” Webster said, taking Joe’s wrist in his hand to stop his motion.

Joe did as he was told and met Web’s blue eyes.

“There’s just you. There isn’t any room for anyone else. I can’t even name a cat without your influence showing up. There’s just you.”

Joe nodded, not really trusting himself with words at that moment.

“You believe me?” Web said.

“Yeah, I do,” Joe said.

“You know, it’s probably for the best,” Web said, moving the lube next to Joe’s leg. “My coworkers are on the other side of these walls and it’s Tuesday so there are students on campus.”

“Are there?” Joe asked as he reached forward for the buttons of Webster’s shirt.

Web nodded, running his hand along Joe’s jean clad legs.

“You are a deeply kinky individual and I’m a little disappointed I’m just now finding this out,” Joe said as he unbuttoned Web’s shirt. 

“It’s your fault,” Web said, stepping between Joe’s spread legs.

“Really?” Joe said, his fingers tracing over Web’s ribcage.

“Yeah, sitting on my desk, wearing my shirt.” Web started undoing Joe’s belt.

“Like that, do you?” Joe said, pulling Web’s shirt off his shoulders.

“A lot,” Web said.

“Then you should probably lock the door,” Joe said.

“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea,” Webster said, wiping a hand across his face and heading over to the door. As he did that, Joe pulled his jeans off and dropped them on the floor. He was about to pull Web’s shirt off when Web said, “No, leave that on.”

“Oh,” Joe said. “You weren’t kidding. You do really like it.”

“I like you in it,” Web said. “I like something of mine on you.”

“Just me,” Joe whispered as he leaned in to kiss Web. This kiss was slower than a lot of the ones they shared. More measured, less hurried, like they knew there would be others to follow.

That was the last part of this that was slow. Shucking his boxers, Joe made quick work of opening himself up. Because Web would want to go slow, take his time and they really didn’t have time for that right now. They would have time for that on Web’s desk at home Joe had said. He noticed that Web’s breath had hitched when he said it. Whether it was because of the promised sex or because Joe had slipped and called Web’s house ‘home’, Joe didn’t know.

Whatever it was, it snapped the last of Web’s reservations. He hauled Joe to the edge of the desk before he got his own pants off to drop them around his ankles. The pace Web set was aggressive, leaving Joe to grip the edge of desk and Web’s shoulder for support and to wrap his legs around Web to pull him closer.

“Mine,” Joe hissed in his ear.

“Yeah,” Web said before he started licking and sucking on Joe’s shoulder.

Their frantic pace continued. The desk even slid forward, almost causing them to lose their balance for a second. What did it for Joe, sending him over the edge and blurring his vision, was when Web bit down on his shoulder. Web followed shortly after, Joe’s name on his lips when he did.

“I’m never going to get any work done here,” Web said, catching his breath. “I’ll be thinking about this.”

“It will be worse at the house,” Joe said, his fingers combing through Webster’s hair.

“How do you figure?”

“I’ll be there,” Joe said, smiling at the shocked look on Web’s face.

Joe wasn’t sure when it happened. Maybe even before he’d left to come here, but at some point he had come to think of Web as his. Because standing there looking at that secretary, he’d felt so overwhelmingly possessive. And if Web was really his, he probably should stick around to make sure everyone knew it.


	10. Epilogue

Joe woke up to the sound of his phone ringing and reached blindly over the cat to find it. Perturbed at being woken up, Quinn jumped down off the bed.

“Do you have any idea what time it is on this half of the country?” Joe complained after he answered his phone.

There was a snort of laughter on the other end before Web replied, “What are you wearing?” The question was supposed to be sexy, but Web still had the laughter in his voice from before. Joe decided to play along anyway because Web didn’t try new things on his own very often, so he should be rewarded when he did.

“Boxers,” Joe replied. He waited a moment before he continued. “And one of your running shirts.”

There was a groan on the other end of the phone. Joe grinned. Webster’s predictability was endearing.

“Want me to take it off?” Joe knew the answer, but he liked playing with Web.

“Leave it on,” Webster said. “I had a dream about you last night. I waited as long as I could to call you.”

“And what was I doing?” Joe knew Web was probably blushing. Action has never been a problem for Web, talking about it made his face red, made him nervous. Joe thought it was cute.

“Remember that time you convinced me to drive out into the middle of the desert to watch a meteor shower? It was like that.”

Joe made a disappointed noise. “Hmm, no. You can do better than that. Come on, writer boy. Use your words.”

There was silence on the other end of the phone, but Joe didn’t push him.

“We were in the back seat of a car, I don’t know if it was mine. You were on top of me, kissing my neck and your hands were under my shirt…”

When Web faltered, Joe picked up where he left off. “Because I’m possessive, I like leaving marks on your skin. It marks up so pretty. What did I do next?”

“You unbuttoned my shirt,” Web said. 

“I bet I know what I did next?” Joe said, and he does too because of a particularly memorable evening on their sofa. Just for kicks, he’d played with Web’s nipples, and after Web almost jackknifed off the sofa, it became his new favorite thing to do.

Webster whined on the end of phone and Joe knew he had his hand in his boxers. He knew because his voice did something to Web and it made Joe feel smug.

“Bet that isn’t the only place you want my mouth,” Joe said, slipping his hand in his boxers.

“It wasn’t like that.” Web’s breath hitched. “You rode me.”

“Nice and slow or hard and fast?” Joe asked as he arched up into his hand.

“Fast. Had my hands in your hair,” Web said.

“Shit,” Joe grunted because he liked having his hair pulled. He could hear Web breathing hard on the other end of the phone. His breath caught when he moaned, and Joe loved those sounds. He sought them out when they are together, knew just what to do so Web would make those noises. Joe knew Web was close, he knew he wouldn’t be that far behind. “Come on, want to hear you. Come on, Web.”

There’s a sharp whine on the other end of the phone and a moaned, drawn out version of Joe’s name. Joe gripped himself tighter, picked up his pace and came with Web’s name on his lips.

He was still breathing fast, coming down from his high when he heard Web say, “I miss you.”

He could deflect. but decided not to. “Me too. Two days.”

“Yeah, two days,” Webster repeated.

“How’s the tour?” Joe knew the answer to that question, but he figured it was something a good boyfriend should ask.

“I’m never doing one of these again. Unless I can convince you to come along.”

Joe smiled. “Two days and you’ll be in San Francisco. Focus on that. Grant was a little pissed we are staying at a hotel. I convinced him it was for the best when I mentioned the sex we would be having.”

“Jesus, how am I going to look these people in the eyes when I meet them?” Web was nervous about meeting Joe’s friends, but Joe knew he has nothing to worry about.

“You all packed for your flight?”

“I have some things to throw in in morning,” Joe replied. “Kitty’s driving me to the airport. She’s going to come back here and get Quinn, since Lip has that conference thing and Ron is going with him. So Kitty is watching our kitty.”

Joe could practically feel Web shaking his head on the other end of the phone.

“I still have some errands to run today,” Joe said, trying to keep this phone call going as long as he could. “I have to pay our water bill, so we have water when we get home.”

“Yeah, that would be good.”

“And I have to mail that shower present for Hoob. I found a Wonder Woman onesie to go with all that boring crap you got them.”

“You can’t wash baby bottles in the dishwasher, that drying rack will be useful,” Web argued.

“I didn’t say it wasn’t useful, I said it was boring. It has a cape, which is a little weird because Wonder Woman normally doesn’t, but it’s cool so I’ll let it slide.”  
“Well, when she gets older, you can explain it to her.”

“Damn right, Justice League is required reading. None of this Green Eggs and Ham shit, we are skipping ahead to the fundamentals.”

Web laughed. “I should let you get back to sleep since you have such a taxing day ahead of you.”

“Or you could tell me what you’re writing?” Joe said.

“How do you know I’m writing?”

“Because you’re always writing, that isn’t the part that you hate.”

Joe settled back into the pillows and listened to Web spin out a new plot line. The characters, their tragic backstories, their introduction, the climax. There were holes in the plot line and there was no ending yet. Joe figured they could sort that out later. Webster will finish the tour for the novel. They’ll come home and Webster will map the whole thing out on their coffee table next to cartons of takeout Chinese food. Then maybe Joe will convince him he needs a haircut. It will be domestic and intimate, all the things Joe thought he hated. All the things he now dreamed of sharing with Web.

**Author's Note:**

> Once again as always all my love to Gilove2dance she is my beta and constant much needed cheerleader. She also provided a [cover](http://dollydagger87.tumblr.com/post/142979388660/title-things-that-stop-you-dreaming-rating) for this fic and the mix. Also thank you to my mother for dragging me to the ABQ. And even though I'll never let you read it, this fic was conceived while you drove. A fan mix for this fic can be found [here](http://8tracks.com/dolly_dagger87/things-that-stop-you-dreaming-a-fanmix-by-dollydagger87).


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